


Hopeless? Never!

by Sadmuse (Aleigh75)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abused Draco, Attempted Murder, Borderline crackfic, Child Abuse, Death Threats, Disney References, Evil Blaise, EvilLucius, F/M, Fae & Fairies, HP: EWE, My muse hates Ron, No Sex, Not really crackfic, Oddly romantic despite the other stuff, Violence, You could say this story is ridonkulous, creatureNarcissa, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-04-10 23:50:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 67,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4412753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aleigh75/pseuds/Sadmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Ministry decrees that all students who were in their seventh year during the Carrow's reign (whether they actually attended or not) must return to Hogwarts to repeat the year. Hermione and Neville are Head Girl and Boy, and Harry is actually happy for a change. Hermione is delighted to be back at Hogwarts, until she realizes that Voldemort's anti-muggle sentiments are still very much alive and well amongst some members of wizarding society. Also, something is horribly wrong with Draco Malfoy (and not in the usual way).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually become a Dramione story, so I've marked it as such, but it's going to take a while for it to get there. They do become friends quite early on. I've also marked this as Harry/Ginny and Neville/Luna, but those are only side pairings. I must point out that I normally don't ship Harry with Ginny *at all*, but I made an exception in this case because I wanted to see if I could do it. Surprisingly (to me), they seem to work in this story, even though I personally hate them together.
> 
> As usual, I don't own any of this, I'm just borrowing it for a while!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might notice a running theme in my stories with Lucius being an abusive asshole. That's because I really think Lucius probably *was* an abusive asshole when no one was looking. 
> 
> Oh, and, hopefully it's obvious, but anything in both italics and quotes are thoughts. Italics inside {} are messages using the DA coins, not spoken aloud. And, I don't really know why, but I've started to put spells in italics.

_October 3, 1998_  
  
Hermione Granger spun slowly on her heel, gazing happily at her new quarters - the Head Girl’s suite on the fourth floor of the recently rebuilt Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The Ministry of Magic, embarrassed by their complete failure to prevent Voldemort’s return, had made repairing the badly damaged old castle one of their first priorities at the war’s end. Professional builders and volunteers alike had scrambled all summer to restore the castle. In the end, classes resumed only a month after the school year would have normally began if the battle hadn’t destroyed large sections of the grounds and building.  
   
Hermione had been delighted when the Ministry had decreed that all seventh year students would repeat the previous year (whether they'd actually attended or not), in order to undo the so-called 'teachings' of Voldemort’s followers, the Carrows. The students in their sixth year and younger were determined to have enough time remaining to undo any damage the Carrows may have done to their education without having to repeat the last year. Harry and Ron were both somewhat relieved to get a second chance, of course, but only Hermione was absolutely and utterly thrilled at the news.  
  
Learning she had been made Head Girl certainly didn’t hurt. She had been the original choice for the position the previous year, until she, Harry and Ron had left. Granted, she probably would have lost the position anyway, after Death Eaters had taken over the school. Despite her rather lackluster academic record, Pansy Parkinson had been given the title in her absence. Wrinkling her nose at bit at the thought that Pansy had once lived in her new quarters, Hermione took out her wand, and cast a thorough ‘ _scourgify_ ' on the entire bedroom.  
  
“Miss Hermione, we'se already cleaned it real good for youse. You'se no like?” The tiny, violet-eyed house elf standing beside her, wearing an extravagantly embroidered blue and gold tea towel, tugged anxiously on her robe.  
  
“Oh, of course, Tibby.” Hermione rushed to reassure her. “It’s just, well...I was thinking about Pansy, and what she might have gotten up to in here. It was a knee jerk reaction...” She wrinkled her nose again, despite herself.  
  
Tibby frowned thoughtfully. Seconds later, the intricately carved four poster bed disappeared in a bright flash of flames and smoke. A very similar, but obviously new, bed immediately appeared in its place. “You'se right, Miss Hermione! I'se shoulda done that sooner! I'se already burned the beddings.” Tibby grinned sheepishly.  
  
Hermione waved her hand in front of her face to clear a bit of lingering smoke. “Thanks Tibby. You’re the best.”  
  
“I tries, Miss Hermione.” The house-elf bowed reverently. “Can I get youse anything before I'se go? Is gettin’ very late.”  
  
“No, thank you Tibby. I’m just going to do a quick patrol with Neville, and go to bed,” Hermione assured her.  
  
Along with finding out that she was _finally_ going to get to live out her dream of being Head Girl, she had been pleasantly surprised to find out that Neville had been selected as this year’s Head Boy. This was largely due to his hard work in re-organizing Dumbledore’s Army, his brave efforts to protect the younger students during the Carrow’s reign, and his much-improved grades in all subjects (except perhaps potions) over the last few years. His role in killing Nagini, and thus helping rid the world of Voldemort once and for all, surely hadn’t hurt his case.  
  
Harry had been considered for the position, of course, but he’d made it very clear to Professor McGonagall, who'd been reinstated as Headmistress, that he wanted nothing to do with it. The Board of Governors had been at a loss as to who to select. Technically, after the general stress level and the lack of decent teachers the previous year, there were _no_ male students who met the usual qualifications for the position. The previous year’s Head Boy was now dead, and none of last year's sixth years had high enough grades. The only returning seventh year male student with grades high enough to make him eligible, academically speaking, was lucky to be returning to school at all. Many thought he should be serving time in Azkaban with Pansy, and several of their other housemates. Giving him the position of Head Boy was out of the question. With all of these factors taken into account, and given a very small pool of candidates with grades that were just shy of of the usual accepted standard, Neville's acts of bravery and selflessness had ultimately made him the Board's only real choice.  
  
After the elf left, Hermione looked around one last time, then walked out of her bed chamber, through her sitting room, and into the corridor.  
  
The hidden entrance to the Head Boy’s suite was directly across the hall from her own. Taking an educated guess at her old friend's password, she tapped her wand three times on a small stone that protruded slightly further from the wall than the rest, and said “I love plants.” The stone instantly shrunk back into the wall, leaving a hole that quickly expanded to form a doorway with a large mahogany door, which immediately popped open.  
  
“ _Do_ </i> you love plants? Do you _really_?” Neville grinned teasingly as he stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.  
  
“No,” Hermione chuckled. “That is the silliest password...” she scolded affectionately.  
  
“Hey, at least I’ll remember it.” Neville laughed at his own expense. “What’s yours? ‘Books rule?’”  
  
Hermione’s face fell. “Damn, I’ll have to change that.” Neville laughed even harder. “Oh, come on, let’s get this over with.”  
  
“How about we split up?” He asked. Reaching into his pocket he said, “I still have a couple coins from the DA...” He said, handing her one. “...This way we can still keep in touch, and finish twice as fast. I don’t know about you, but I have a ton of organizing to do. House elves don’t know shite about how to properly place magical plants. They left my venomous tentacula on my nightstand!”  
  
"Ouch!" Hermione laughed. “I guess you have some work to do,” she agreed. “Alright, everyone is probably too busy getting settled in to get up to much trouble tonight, anyway.”  
  
“Awesome. How about I’ll take the dungeons and first three floors, and you take the towers and top three? We can meet back here in the middle?” Neville suggested. Upon receiving her answering nod, he waved, and headed off down the corridor.  
  
Hermione hoped that the Slytherins wouldn't give him any trouble. At least their rival House's numbers were at an all time low this year. Many of the older students hadn't returned; even a few seventh years among those who hadn't found themselves in Azkaban had somehow gotten out of the Ministry's decree. And, somewhat strangely, the Sorting Hat hadn’t sorted a single new Slytherin from this year's unusually small batch of first years. Deciding to work her way up, rather than down, Hermione quickly patrolled the fifth floor, and found nothing out of the ordinary. The coin in her left hand warmed up as she climbed to the sixth floor. { _The Slytherins sure seem to find something to be absolutely hilarious this evening. They were raising the roof down there!_ } Neville’s message read.  
  
{ _Do you need help with them?_ } Hermione sent back.  
  
{ _Nah, most of them seemed kind of afraid of the guy who killed ol’ Moldy’s snake. It was kind of awesome!_ } Neville answered.  
  
Hermione laughed. { _Better watch out. The girls in the other houses are gonna be all over you this year!_ }  
  
{ _I wish!_ }  Came the brief reply. Hermione smiled to herself. Apparently a certain blonde Ravenclaw hadn’t gotten up her nerve to approach him yet...Luna had revealed to Hermione and Ginny on the train earlier that she intended to ask Neville to be her boyfriend.  
  
{ _It will happen, trust me._ } She sent back, glad they weren't face to face. If she had to look at Neville's (probably) big, sad eyes right now, she'd most likely be tempted to blab her friend's secret.  
  
{ _You should probably worry more about the guys falling at your feet._ }  Neville replied.  
  
{ _Are you kidding? Even though we broke up, Ron still glares daggers at any guy who so much as looks at me!_ } Hermione huffed irritably. Things had not gone well with her attempt to date the second youngest Weasley. Everything that had ever annoyed her about him when they were just friends, like his eating habits, or his inability to do his own homework (or any sort of work, period) without complaining, had seemed a hundred times worse once he was supposed to be her boyfriend. ‘Supposed to be’ being the operative phrase. Other than their one kiss in the caverns under the castle during the battle, there had never seemed to be much passion between them. They’d broken up by mutual agreement after only a month and a half. To her dismay, Ron was still acting as jealous (and somewhat controlling) around her as he had in the year or so before they’d dated. She really hoped that he would find a new girlfriend now that school had started again, and move on.  He really wasn’t that bad a guy, just not a great fit for anyone that actually cared about school. Or table manners.  
  
While mulling over her difficulties with her ex-boyfriend, Hermione had covered all of the sixth floor, and almost half of the seventh. She woke up the Fat Lady just long enough to duck her head into the Gryffindor common room, only to find it almost completely vacant. The only occupants were Harry and Ginny, who were sitting together on a loveseat facing the fire. She had her head on his shoulder, and he had his arm around her, resting his head against the top of hers. Hermione really didn’t want to disturb them, so she stepped back out through the portrait hole as quietly as possible.  
  
“Was that really worth waking me up?” the half-dozing Fat Lady asked nastily.  
  
“Is a few minutes of useless beauty sleep really worth getting yourself moved to the dungeons?” Hermione shot back, annoyed. She was _supposed_ to check the common rooms, after all.  
  
“Oh! I didn’t notice it was _you_! My apologies!” The Fat Lady said in her usual simpering tone, jerking fully awake, and curtseying dramatically.  
  
“That’s what I thought.” Hermione smirked slightly, turning away.  
  
“Oh! Miss Granger! If you’re looking for a wandering student, I believe he is in the Astronomy tower!” The Fat Lady called after her, her tone clearly eager to please.  
  
Hermione wondered if it was the 'Head Girl' badge pinned to her chest, or just the fact that she was Hermione Granger, famous war heroine, that had brought on the portrait's sudden change in attitude. " _It's probably just the badge_ ," she tried to reassure herself. She really loathed all the attention she'd received since the end of the war. Nodding stiffly to the portrait, she headed for the Astronomy tower.  
  
As she approached the top of the stairs, she quietly cast a silencing spell on her shoes to hide her footsteps. The moon was nearly full, so she didn’t need to cast a ‘ _lumos_ ’ to see the figure hunched against one of the many columns surrounding the center of the tower. The light glared off the person’s highly recognizable, almost white, hair. Lowering her wand slightly, she quietly asked, “Malfoy?” His head was resting on his forearms, which were propped on his knees, and she wasn’t sure if he was awake or not. He seemed to be shaking slightly, but it _was_ pretty cold up here, being early October. “Malfoy?” She repeated, a bit louder.  
  
This time, his head jerked up, and he shot to his feet with his wand pointed at her head. He cast a strong ‘ _lumos_ ,’ which nearly blinded her, then quickly lowered his wand. “Oh, it’s just you...” He murmured, wrapping his arms around himself.  
  
“You were expecting someone worse than me?” Hermione wondered aloud.  
  
He snorted bitterly. “Believe it or not, Granger, but there are several people I would like to see a hell of a lot less than you.” He quickly swiped his right sleeve over his eyes, and she realized he’d been crying.  
  
“Are you alright?” She asked, stepping a bit closer. Looking around, she winced at his choice of hiding spots...the site of Dumbledore’s death.  
  
She bit her lip thoughtfully, remembering their last encounter. When the smoke had cleared after the last battle, Malfoy had suddenly appeared beside her in the ruined courtyard when she'd excused herself to 'get some air.' She had jumped a mile, and almost slugged him in the nose again. He’d jumped back with a yelp and quickly raised his hands in surrender. “No! Wait! I just wanted to say thank you!”  
  
“What?!” She’d blurted, staring stupidly at him, her fist still raised, completely taken aback. “As if, Malfoy!” She'd snapped, pulling her arm back slightly.  
  
“No, really. Thank you, for saving me earlier. I know Potter and Weasley won’t let me thank them yet, but I hoped maybe you’d be less likely to curse me for trying to talk to you.” He’d rushed on, breathlessly. “I wouldn’t blame you for being mad...but, really, just...Thank you, Granger. I’m really glad Potter won. I hated You-know-who, more than you could ever know. And I’m so sorry about what my aunt did to you.” Hermione had been shocked to see he had tears in his eyes, and opened her mouth to make some kind of sarcastic comment about his acting skills. “No. Really. I wanted to stop her, but You-know-who would have killed my mother if I stood up to any of his followers.” He reached out, seemingly without realizing it, and gently squeezed her shoulder. “I’m really sorry. For all of it, alright?”  
  
Hermione had just stood there, shell-shocked, staring at his hand on her shoulder. Then, they’d heard Ron calling her name from the castle doors. Malfoy’s eyes had widened in fear, and he let go of her shoulder. “Thanks again,” he'd murmured one last time, and took off in the opposite direction. She’d known she should probably yell for someone. Aurors were rounding up the remaining Death Eaters, and his parents were Death Eaters; he was probably a Death Eater, too, for all she knew. At the very least, the Ministry would probably want to take him in for questioning. Instead of giving away his presence and preventing his likely escape, she’d just wandered back inside the castle.  
  
Over the extra-long summer, she’d heard that, of the Malfoy family, only Lucius had been sent to Azkaban. He'd been found dead in his cell less than a week after his trial. The Ministry suspected his fellow inmates weren't happy about the part Narcissa had played in the last battle. Due to her role in helping Harry fake his death, she had been placed on house arrest at Malfoy Manor. Draco was let off scot free, because he was under age when he’d made his very half-hearted attempts on Dumbledore’s life. Other than acting like a git, he really hadn’t done anything wrong since coming of age. And though his motives were questionable, he _had_ tried to stop Crabbe from attacking Harry in the Room of Requirement. In the end, the Ministry had decided they had much bigger fish to fry. Hermione wasn’t sure if it had helped, but she had mentioned to Kingsley before his trial that Draco seemed repentant for his part in everything.  
  
He now nodded unconvincingly in answer to her question, then reluctantly shook his head. “No.” He muttered defeatedly, then wiped his eyes again. “I didn’t want to come back here. _Everyone_ hates me, and I don’t blame them a bit. Mother insisted I finish school, though, because everyone else is doing it. How would it look if I didn’t?” he asked, sneering sarcastically. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “I didn’t realize how bad it was going to be. I wish Dumbledore was still here.” He glanced at the railing where the Headmaster had fallen, and the tears began to flow freely down his cheeks. “I don’t think it would be so bad if he was still here.”  
  
“Malfoy, you shouldn’t be up here.” Hermione inched a bit closer, and cautiously reached out to grasp his wrist.  
  
Malfoy flinched, and his arm jerked almost involuntarily. “I know, I know. It’s past curfew and you’re Head Girl. I can’t go down to the Slytherin dorm, though.” He sighed irritably, but made no further move to get away from her. He just stood there with an empty, broken look on his face.  
  
“I know I should drag you off to McGonagall, or give you detention,” Hermione said quietly. “But what if we just go to my rooms and talk?” The hopeless expression on his face was scaring her for some reason, and she knew instinctively that she needed to get him out of the tower as quickly as possible.  
  
“Maybe you _should_ just take me to McGonagall. You don’t want to be caught being nice to me. This is your big year, and I don’t want to ruin it for you.” He smiled weakly at her, and tugged against her grip on his wrist.  
  
“Please?” Hermione requested, refusing to let go. “You really look like you could use someone to talk to. And...well...I adore Professor McGonagall, but she’s not really the type to get chummy with a Slytherin.”  
  
“Alright,” he sighed, glancing one more time at the railing with a longing expression that made Hermione’s blood run cold.  
  
" _Was he thinking about jumping_?!"  
  
“Come on.” She tugged urgently on his wrist. “There’s no reason for you to be up here. Do you hear me, Draco Malfoy?”  
  
“I do.” He nodded, looking her directly in the eyes, for perhaps the first time in his life. “You might be the only one that thinks so, though,” he added, shrugging slightly.  
  
Hermione stared at him for a moment. “What about your mother?” she asked, and his eyes widened slightly.  
  
“I’m so stupid! What was I thinking?” He stared at her in horror. Far from seeming comforted, he started sobbing, and growled, “She’d be so embarrassed...I can’t do anything right!”  
  
“Shh! Hey! That’s not true!” Hermione found herself almost hugging him, and cooing softly to try to calm him while she pondered his choice of words. " _His mother would be *embarrassed* if he killed himself_?!" “Come with me and we’ll talk more, okay? Please, just come with me. We don’t even have to talk. You can just sleep on my sofa if you don’t want to go to the dungeons. I'm not leaving you up here by yourself!”  
  
“You _can’t_ leave me up here.” He pointed out, sniffling. “You’re Head Girl.” He spat the words last out like they were a curse.  
  
“I won’t leave you here because I’m _me_ , Malfoy.” She corrected firmly. “Now, can we please go?” She headed toward the stairway, and he finally followed, reluctantly.  
  
“Well, you’re Head Girl _because_ you’re _you_ ,” He mumbled as they walked down the long flights of stairs to the fourth floor.  
  
Hermione smiled awkwardly at him, not sure how to take that. Then, she slapped herself on the forehead as the coin in her pocket warmed suddenly just as they reached the fourth floor. “Shite! I forgot about Neville!”  
  
“Do the Heads really share quarters?” Malfoy asked confusedly. “I always thought that was a myth.”  
  
“It is a myth.” Hermione snorted. “But we were supposed to meet after patrolling.” " _Didn't he visit the Head Girl’s rooms while Parkinson lived there?_ " she wondered. Setting the question aside for later, she pulled out the coin.  
  
{ _Are you alright? I’ve been done for like twenty minutes_.}  
  
{ _Sorry, I didn’t find anything. I just got caught up looking at the moon and lost track of time_.}she replied, though she hated lying. { _You can go ahead and start on your plants. I’m on my way down as we speak_.}  
  
{ _Alright, see you in the morning. Good night_!}  
  
{ _Night, Neville_.} Hermione smiled as she shoved the coin back in her pocket.  
  
“I still can’t believe they made Neville Longbottom Head Boy.” Malfoy said, shaking his head slightly.  
  
“What’s wrong with that? Do you think it should have been you?” Hermione asked somewhat defensively, her hands on her hips.  
  
“No, no. I just thought they would choose Potter.” He shrugged. “Don't get me wrong, I think Neville’s an alright guy, and the Slytherins hate him almost as much as they do me. Except they’re actually afraid of _him_.”  
  
“The Slytherins hate you? You’re practically their leader.” She frowned confusedly.  
  
He gave her a pointed look, and when she just stared back blankly, he sighed impatiently. Suddenly twisting his wrist in her grasp, he flipped it around so he held her hand in his. “Come on, Granger. I’ll explain what it’s like to live among snakes.” He started off down the corridor to their left. She cleared her throat, and smirked at him slightly. “But maybe I’ll let you lead, since you actually know where you live and all...”  
  
“Yeah, right.” She snorted sarcastically, leading him toward her rooms, which were down the corridor to the right. " _Like he doesn’t know where Pansy’s old rooms are. Does he think I'm stupid_?"  
  
“What?” He snapped, frowning irritably at her. It made him look more like the Malfoy she was used to, and she immediately tried to pull her hand out of his grasp. “No, really, what?” He asked in a slightly softer tone, tightening his grip.  
  
“Nothing.” Hermione muttered, getting annoyed with his ‘I haven’t been in the Head Girl’s rooms hundreds of times’ act. " _Ew. He was probably one of the main reasons for Tibby’s decision to burn the old bed_." “Just be quiet now. Neville’s room is right across the hall!” She hissed. He waited relatively patiently while she tapped the stone hiding her door and murmured her password under her breath so he wouldn’t make fun of her. The door didn’t appear, so she had to repeat it a bit louder. To his credit, he just snorted softly and grinned at her. “Shut up. I’m changing it in the morning,” she whispered, blushing.  
  
“I wouldn’t want me to know it, either.” He mumbled. The grin had left his face, and the lost, hopeless look had returned to replace it.  
  
“No. That's not...I mean, I was already planning to replace it, because it’s silly.” She rushed to reassure him, but he still looked crestfallen. Opening the door, she waved him inside. “Come on in.”  
  
“What if I was a vampire, Granger?” He shook his head in mock disapproval.  
  
“Malfoy, even _you_ are too dark skinned to be a vampire.” She giggled quietly.  
  
“I _do_ bite, though.” He licked his lower lip and leered at her, and her heart skipped a beat. “Don’t worry, I'd only do if you wanted me to,” he added, laughing quietly. "You should see your face."  
  
Just then Neville’s door started to appear across the hall. Hermione quickly shoved Malfoy into her suite and closed the door most of the way, pretending she was just now opening it. “‘Mione?” Neville stuck his head out. He had a strand of venomous tentacula hanging from his hair, and she knocked it off with a weak ‘ _stupefy_ ’ “Oh, thanks. That bugger needs to go out to the greenhouses first thing tomorrow.” He chuckled sheepishly, scratching his ear. “I thought I heard you talking to someone out here?”  
  
“Just Peeves.” Hermione smiled innocently. At least she hoped the smile looked innocent. It felt like it might look guilty as hell, screaming that she was hiding a boy in her room. " _Not that Malfoy counts_." “Sorry if we disturbed you. You know what a pain in the arse he can be.”  
  
“I do,” Neville said in a strange tone. “I thought it might be Ron or something.” She grimaced disgustedly, and he laughed. “Good night!” He said, still laughing, and went back in his room.  
  
Hermione waited until his door had completely disappeared before opening her own. "Here goes nothing..." she muttered as she stepped inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea where the Head Boy and Girl quarters are, or if they even exist, but for the purpose of this story, I put them on the fourth floor, just so they'd be in the middle. lol


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione learns a lot more about what is going on with Draco. This chapter is kinda dark. And when I say "kinda," I mean pretty damn dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but my muse REALLY likes to try to redeem Draco while abusing him horribly at the same time. And make Lucius look completely and utterly evil.

  
She found Malfoy standing just inside the sitting room. “Is it alright if I use your restroom?” He asked politely.  
  
“Oh, of course! Go ahead. Um...it’s that one.” She pointed at the correct door when he started to walk toward her coat closet. "What is he playing at?" She muttered irritably.  
  
“Hmm?” He paused and looked back at her curiously.  
  
“Oh, are you hungry? I was thinking about having the elves send up a snack,” she said, covering quickly, and she hoped successfully.  
  
He coughed softly. “I’m starving, actually,” he admitted, shifting his weight from side to side. She noticed his cheeks were turning the faintest shade of pink.  
  
“Did you miss the feast?” Hermione asked. She had ended up sitting with her back to the Slytherin table, and couldn’t remember if she had seen him or not. Now that she was thinking about it, she was pretty sure she hadn’t.  
  
“Long story,” he mumbled quietly before disappearing into the bathroom and closing the door behind him.  
  
Hermione quickly wrote a note on the special parchment on her desk that let her make special requests to the house-elves. She felt more than a little guilty bothering them at this hour, but if Malfoy hadn’t eaten since before he left London, the few chocolate frogs and slightly squashed pastries she had left over from the snack cart on the train definitely weren’t going to cut it.  
  
Apparently, Tibby didn’t mind being disturbed, because she appeared almost immediately with a tray in her hands, and begged Hermione to let her know if she needed anything else. She didn’t seem to think it was at all strange that Hermione had requested two of everything...two mugs, a pot each of tea and hot chocolate, two glasses of pumpkin juice, and two sandwiches made from the roast leftover from the feast. There was also a plate of assorted biscuits, tarts and fairy cakes...also leftovers from earlier.  
  
Malfoy must have heard Tibby from inside the bathroom, because he opened the door almost the instant she disappeared. Eying the tray, he said, “Wow, being a Head really has its perks, doesn’t it?”  
  
Fed up with whatever game he was playing, she snorted. “Like you don’t know. Pansy probably bugged them  morning, noon, and night.”    
  
He froze in the act of reaching for one of the sandwiches. “Is...is that why you were acting so pissed earlier? Because you thought I'd, what? Shacked up in here with Pansy?” He rolled his eyes and scoffed bitterly. “I'll have you know, I barely even spoke with her last year. Did you know that the only reason I ever went out with her was because our fathers wanted us to get married? I wanted nothing to do with her. Not as a girlfriend, anyway. After my so-called ‘failure’ to kill Dumbledore, her father ripped up our marriage contract and forbid her to even speak to me." He snorted softly, rolling his eyes again. "If he ever finds out how relieved I was when I heard about that particular ‘punishment,’ he’ll probably spit nails! And I hope the bastard chokes on them!”  
  
“Oh.” Hermione was dumbfounded. “I had no idea...I mean, you seemed to...get along rather well.” She wrinkled her nose as more than one memory of the two making out in the Great Hall, in the corridors, in the greenhouses...pretty much all around the castle, flashed across her mind.  
  
“Ugh...don’t remind me. We've been friends since we were toddlers, but the girl is a total slag, Granger.” He shuddered. “Which reminds me, you probably ought to have them replace the bed in here...”  
  
“Already done,” Hermione assured him with a wry grin. He chuckled. “Um, if you still have an appetite, please help yourself!” She urged, gesturing at the tray.  
  
“I might need a minute or two after that little trip down Memory Lane.” He smiled at her as he picked up a glass of pumpkin juice instead of the sandwich he’d reached for initially. “By the way, how’d you know roast beef is my favorite?” He asked after taking a long drink. The glass magically refilled itself when he set it down on the table.  
  
 “I didn’t. It’s my favorite, and I just figured you wouldn’t hate it,” she admitted sheepishly, realizing belatedly that a better hostess probably would have requested more of a variety in case she was wrong.  
  
“You figured correctly.” Draco smiled again, and then glanced at her small fireplace, where a few glowing embers were all that remained of a fire Tibby had started earlier. “Do you mind if I start that up again? I know it’s not that cold in here, but I’m still kind of chilly.”  
  
Hermione waved her hand at the smoldering fire, and a fresh log floated from a nearby basket into the fireplace, immediately bursting into flames. “You should have said something sooner,” she scolded quietly. “Here, have some tea or hot chocolate. It’ll warm you up faster.”  
  
“I’ll have the chocolate. Thanks.” He smiled gratefully as he moved closer to the fire.  
  
Hermione chuckled to herself as she filled both mugs from the same steaming pot before she joined him by the fire. After handing him a mug, she gestured with her free hand, and the furniture rearranged itself slightly, leaving two armchairs facing each other in front of the hearth. “So, do you like hot chocolate better than tea, too?” She asked once they were seated. Now that they were in her suite, she was at a loss as to what to talk about.  
  
“I do.” He grinned briefly. When the grin faded, he said, “We never have it at home. Father didn’t think it’s ‘sophisticated’ enough.” He rolled his eyes and took a sip, sighing happily.  
  
“That’s ridiculous!” Hermione blurted out. “I mean, my Mum and Dad don’t like me to drink too much of it, but that’s because of all the sugar.” When he shot her a questioning look, she said, “They’re dentists.” She giggled and took a sip from her own mug. The creamy beverage flowed down her throat; the epitome of chocolate, cinnamon and marshmallow perfection. “Mmm,” she moaned happily.  
  
“Hogwart’s elves really do make the best hot chocolate, don’t they?” Malfoy chuckled.  
  
“They make the best _everything_.’ Hermione nodded. “Speaking of which...” She waved her hand again, and the small table holding the tray of food moved closer, settling within their reach.  
  
“You’re pretty good at wandless magic,” Malfoy observed, quietly. Hermione realized he had a look on his face that was both impressed and envious.  
  
“I’m sure you are, too.” She shrugged dismissively. She had figured it out on her own over the summer, but since he was a Pureblood, she assumed he had probably learned it long ago.  
  
“I don’t know how,” He admitted. “You-know-who never encouraged it among his followers. He didn't like them doing anything that might make anyone seem as powerful as he was.”  
  
“I could teach you,” Hermione offered shyly. “I've seen your grades...I’m sure you’d pick it up in no time.”  
  
He set his mug down on the tray and said, “You really need to stop doing that.”  
  
“Doing what?” Hermione blinked at him confusedly.  
  
“Being nice to me.” He frowned slightly. “I haven’t been very nice to you. Ever. You should probably hex me on a regular basis.”  
  
“I’m not being _that_ nice.” Hermione snorted.  
  
He coughed quietly and rubbed his chest. Standing up, he began pacing back and forth. “Promise you won’t tell anyone you found me up there? That I was ever here? If you do, they’ll just take it as proof that I’m the rat they already think I am.” He coughed again, a bit louder.  
  
“Is that why they hate you? They think you turned in other Death Eaters?” She glance quickly at his left forearm.  
  
“I was never a Death Eater.” He quickly rolled up his sleeve and showed her his forearm, which had no trace of the faint, twisted, whitish skull all of the surviving Death Eaters had been left with after Voldemort’s death. “I only did what You-know-who told me to do because he said he’d kill my mother. She's one of the only people I've ever really cared about, and he knew it,” he spat bitterly, then wiped his mouth on the back of his sleeve in a very un-Malfoy-like gesture.  
  
“I’m so sorry Mal...er...Draco.” Hermione stared at his pale, unmarred skin; she couldn't help feeling slightly shocked. Then, she noticed a dark blur further up his arm, peeking out from under his rolled up sleeve. Reaching out, she pushed the material further up, and uncovered an angry, swollen, red welt across the inside of his elbow. “What’s this?” She asked, tracing it with her forefinger, but not actually touching it due to its painful appearance. "It looks infected..."  
  
He shook his head quickly, shoving his sleeve back down. “It’s nothing.”  
  
“That isn’t _nothing_ ,” Hermione retorted. “Let me see...” She stood up, following him when he began backing away from her.  
  
“Please don’t,” he pleaded when she cornered him against the far wall. “Please.” His voice cracked, and he hung his head, trying to hide his face. Hermione was so much shorter than him that this didn't quite hide the tears in his eyes.  
  
“Who did that to you?” She asked, trying to keep the anger she was feeling out of her voice. “C’mon, sit back down...”  
  
“I can’t tell you. They’ll kill me.” He started pacing again, more quickly...like a caged animal, his expression one of pure panic. “They’re not kidding. They already tried. Luckily Blaise is lousy at the Imperius curse. You have to be really good at it to make someone kill himself.”  
  
“What?!” Hermione yelped. “He tried to make you kill yourself?!”  
  
“Shhh!” Malfoy hissed, then broke into a coughing fit. “Long...bottom...will...hear...you...” He wheezed, trying to catch his breath. “P-please.”  
  
“Well, maybe he _should_ hear me!” Outraged, Hermione headed toward the door. “We have to go to McGonagall. Zabini can’t do something like that and get away with it!”  
  
Malfoy all but tackled her and dragged her over to the sofa. Pushing her down, he knelt in front of her and pinned her with his arms on either side of her on the back cushions. “You can’t tell anyone! You can't!” he yelled, his eyes flashing with a mix of rage and fear.  
  
“Then, why’d you tell _me_?!” Hermione cried, shrinking away from him. She suddenly realized that letting him into her suite might have been a very grave error on her part. The wild look in his eyes reminded her very much of his aunt Bellatrix in that moment, and she felt a sudden burst of panic. “Let me go! Get off me!” She shoved hard on his shoulders, and he fell backwards. “Don’t touch me!” She shrieked almost hysterically, biting back a sob.  
  
“What?” The slightly crazed look left his eyes, and his face fell. “No, no...I wasn’t going to...I wouldn’t hurt you.” He started to crawl back toward her.  
  
“Don’t touch me!” Hermione yelped, scrambling to the far end of the sofa.  
  
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I...I just...you can't tell anyone,” He moaned softly. “If they find out I told on them, they’ll kill my Mum. She’s all alone, stuck at the Manor, and not all of the Death Eaters are in Azkaban. I never should have left her.” He sat down on the floor a few feet away from her and hugged his knees to his chest.  
  
“Why did you come back at all?” Hermione asked quietly, beginning to calm down a bit now that he'd backed off.  
  
“I told you...she made me,” he muttered quietly. “She can be...very insistent.” He coughed again, and plopped down on the other end of the sofa, rubbing his chest again. “I’m stuck, Granger. I couldn’t stay at home, but the other Slytherins aren't going to let me stay here in peace. You should’ve just left me up in the tower.”  
  
Hermione glanced pointedly at the welt peeking out from under his left sleeve, sighing when he moved to cover it with his hand. “Tell me who did that to you, and I’ll try to figure out what to do. Was it Zabini?”  
  
“I can’t tell you about that.” He shook his head frantically. “Blood oath.” He wheezed loudly, clutched his chest and started coughing violently, covering his mouth with his hand.  He swayed slightly, and looked up at her, his face pale and his eyes a bit glassy.  
  
“Malfoy?” Hermione scooted slightly closer as he continued to cough helplessly. “Malfoy? Are you alright?” She touched his shoulder, and he nodded. Leaning over, she grabbed his pumpkin juice and held it in front of him until he took it and gulped it down. When he finally stopped coughing, she asked, “If you can’t tell me...can I just...look?” She pulled out her her wand, raised it slightly, and looked pointedly at his head.  
  
“I, uh, can’t give you permission.” He looked her in the eye just as meaningfully, swallowing nervously.  
  
Hermione nodded, and immediately pointed her wand at his head. He barely had time to flinch as she shouted, “Legilimens!” Malfoy fell over backwards and writhed on the floor, instinctively trying to fight the spell because of the blood oath. She was going to have to overpower him. Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “I’m so sorry, Draco,” and concentrated harder. Malfoy let out an agonized scream, and she was suddenly flooded with horrible images:  
  
_Voldemort and a crowd of death eaters torturing muggles and muggle-borns at the Manor. Lucius standing over a cowering Draco with a blood crusted belt. Bellatrix casually putting out a cigarette on the back of her nephew’s forearm while he hung limply from a pair of shackles in the middle of a room full of laughing Death Eaters. Voldemort again, killing Professor Burbage almost directly over Draco’s head. Hermione herself, screaming while Bellatrix tortured her in front of Draco. Draco chained to a chair, looking exhausted, with dementors surrounding him while a smirking Ministry official barked question after question at him in the same cold, dark courtroom she remembered from retrieving the locket from Umbridge. Narcissa, holding the same bloody belt his father had used, screaming at Draco for failing to keep his father out of Azkaban while she hit him repeatedly with the buckle end of the belt. His mother again, icily ordering him not to come back home until he restored their family name, saying he was no longer her son until he did so. A compartment full of leering Slytherins standing over Draco on the train while some of the older students kicked, punched and cast curse after curse on him as he lay immobilized and silenced on the floor. There was a particularly disgusting crunch when Blaise Zabini stomped on his chest just before things went black. Draco practically crawling up the stairs of the Astronomy tower, his shirt covered in blood. Then, Blaise’s cold voice ordering him to jump, and the sickening moment when he actually_ did _drag himself over the railing, but somehow managed to hang onto the edge of the tower until the other Slytherin left. Finally, she saw him pull himself back over the railing with the last of his strength, clean the blood from himself, and then sink to the floor against the column where she had found him hours later_.  
  
Jerking back, Hermione released the spell and dropped to her knees beside him. He was curled up in a ball on his side, openly weeping. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up...it gets a lot worse. Because...my muse...can't leave her and Draco in the same room together without him coming out half dead.
> 
> Edited 2/2/16 because I realized it wasn't clear at all that Draco's broken ribs were from a physical blow, not the curses the Slytherins cast on him. This is important because as far as I know, magical injuries can't be cured by magic (in most cases), but a lot of things with a natural, physical cause can be cured with healing spells or potions. Draco's ribs were broken by physical force, not a spell or cursed object. This is important to know later on!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's kind of short. The next one is pretty gross, so I guess I wanted a breather first. (I wrote it quite a while ago, I may have had writer's block again).

Hermione leaned over the weeping Slytherin, gently stroking his hair. “I won’t tell, Draco. We’ll figure something out, okay? Please stop crying. I’m so sorry!” She realized she was crying herself when she noticed her tears dripping onto his head, soaking his shaggy blond hair. “Please talk to me?” She begged, terrified by everything she had just seen, and also by how badly he was shaking. What if she had hurt him even further by forcing all those memories from him like that? “Draco, please....I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m sorry. Please, just say something. _Anything_!” she begged, then laid down in front of him, and wrapped her arms around him, gently rubbing his back, neck and shoulders as best she could from her position. She continued to whisper apologies and reassurances in his ear until his sobs finally subsided. Unsure if he had fallen asleep, or simply cried himself out, she tried to move away from him. He immediately whimpered, and slid his arms around her waist. Sighing with relief, she laid her head on his shoulder (for lack of anywhere else to rest it), and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “I’m sorry, Draco...” she whispered miserably.  
   
“You might have mentioned that a time or two hundred...” He croaked, his voice hoarse from crying so hard for so long.  
  
“I might have to mention it a few hundred more times, just to be sure you grasp just how sorry I am.” Hermione chuckled weakly, continuing to run her fingers through his silky hair until she suddenly became aware she was doing so, and quickly pulled her hand away.  
  
“Don’t stop. That feels nice. My m-mum used to do that when I was little. Before everything went to hell.” He sniffled quietly and pressed his forehead to hers. She resumed stroking his hair, and he sighed softly. “I wish you didn’t have to see all of that. I really wish you hadn’t had to _live_ through part of it.” He whimpered again, so quietly that she almost didn’t hear, and wrapped his arms more tightly around her for a moment before finally opening his eyes and looking at her. “I hated Aunt Bella so much for that. That’s why I let Potter get my wand so easily...so he’d get you away from her. She was going to kill you...I could see it in her eyes...” he trailed off, shuddering.   
  
Hermione shuddered as well. “You...you saw her kill other girls, didn’t you?” She asked reluctantly, remembering a few quick, vague glimpses of girls her own age, limp and covered in blood, with Bella and Voldemort laughing in the background.  
  
“I did.” Draco nodded, closing his eyes and looking ashamed. “There was never an opportunity to help any of them escape without her realizing I’d helped them. People were usually brought to the Manor alone, not in groups. If I had helped them, everyone would have figured it out and V...v...You-Know-Who would have killed my mother.” He sighed miserably and looked at her again. “I’m sort of glad that you know some of it, but you shouldn’t have had to watch everything.” He whispered, his eyes red, bloodshot and still rimmed with tears.  
  
“ _You_ shouldn’t have had to live any of it, either,” she said vehemently. “I know you love your mother, but what she did to you...”  
  
“I do love her,” he replied sharply, releasing her suddenly, and trying to push up to a sitting position. Hermione smoothly rose up to kneel beside him. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw, or they’ll throw her in Azkaban. Or worse. I’ll die if anything happens to her!” His words sounded panicked, but his tone was oddly flat and an eerie blank look had crossed his face. Hermione stifled a gasp; he looked like someone under a spell.   
  
“Um...you’re right. I know. I won’t tell anyone.” She lied, planning to go to McGonagall as soon as she could do so without him knowing. “You really should eat something, you know. When’s the last time you had anything to eat?” He’d missed the feast, and obviously hadn’t  been able to eat anything on the train, either.   
  
“The elves at home bring me food every day at four o'clock.” He replied flatly.  
  
“The Express left at eleven this morning!” Hermione gasped. “You mean you haven’t eaten since four o’clock _yesterday_?!” she asked shrilly. He just nodded silently. His eyes were starting to look a bit glazed, and Hermione glanced at her watch. It was almost eleven. “Merlin, Draco, you need to eat something!” Making a decision, she flicked her wand at the parchment on the table and the quill popped up, scribbling a quick message.   
  
Tibby immediately appeared, gasping when she saw Hermione sitting on the floor with Draco.   
  
“Oh, Miss Hermione! You know you'se not supposed to be having _boys_ in your room!” the little elf squealed, saying the word “boys” much as she might have said “vampires”, “werewolves”, or any number of other deadly creatures.  
  
“I know, Tibby, I know, but he’s very sick, and I need your help,” Hermione said, beckoning the elf closer.   
  
“I'se send him to the infirmary, then!” Tibby exclaimed, raising her hand, her bony little fingers prepared to snap.  
  
“No, Tibby, no! He has to stay here. It’s not safe for him in the infirmary. No one can know he’s here!” Hermione yelped quickly, before Tibby could take action.  
  
“But that’s a _Malfoy_ , Miss. They’s not nice, Miss. They k-killed D-Dobby, Miss.” Tibby began trembling, her large eyes filling with tears.  
  
“I know, Tibby, and I’m very sorry to have to ask this of you,” Hermione sighed. “But he’s not like the rest of them. That’s why it’s not safe for him to leave these rooms. He’s in danger. And I promise you, _he_ > did _not_ kill Dobby. He actually helped me escape from his parents’ house.”  
  
Tibby relaxed slightly, and peered curiously at Draco. “Did they hurt him? Those other Malfoys?”   
  
Hermione nodded sadly, picturing each of his parents with that blasted bloody belt. “Some of the other Slytherins did, too,” she put in for good measure, knowing she was winning the elf over.  
  
“Then I'se help him.” Tibby nodded solemnly. “What’s he needin’?”  
  
Hermione thought about the beatings and curses he’d taken within the last few days. “He’s half starving, and...” She glanced at Draco, who was being strangely silent in light of them talking about him like he wasn't there. “He’s hurt. Badly. I need healing supplies.” While they talked about what might be needed, Draco drew his knees up to his chest and rested his head on his arms again, the way Hermione had found him in the tower. Hermione suddenly noticed splotches of blood beginning to soak through the front of his shirt. “Shite, Draco, you’re bleeding!”  
  
“M-mother. Sh-she used this spell to stop all the bleeding before I l-left the Manor this morning,” he admitted dejectedly. “But the spell didn’t actually _heal_ anything, and it must be wearing off.”  
  
“Gods, that b-” Draco whipped his head around to glare at her, and Hermione stuttered, “B-bites?” At his confused look, she stammered, “Um...that bites...it’s a muggle saying.” He squinted for a moment, like he was trying to figure out a difficult arithmancy problem, then shrugged and rested his head back on his arms. “Anyway, do you think you can make it into the bedroom?”  
  
“I could, but I’m not taking your bed.” He shook his head slightly. “The sofa is fine.”  
  
“You don’t have to take the bed. Tibby’s going to make up a cot in there for you. I don’t know how long you’ll have to hide out in here, but people are going to be coming in and out, and I don’t want them to see you.” Hermione explained.  
  
“You’d let me sleep in the same room with you?” He asked incredulously.   
  
“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?” She asked him pointedly. When he finally shook his head, she said, “Of course I’ll let you sleep in there. I trust you.” She smiled soothingly at him like she would a frightened child. “Come on...come with me.” She stood gracefully and reached down, offering him her hand.   
  
Draco stared at it for a moment before accepting. He reluctantly let her pull him to his feet, but he was far too light for his size, so she pulled too hard. He stumbled into her, and winced, clutching his right side as he tried to get his balance.  “What’s wrong?” Hermione asked worriedly, moving to his left side and wrapping her arm around his waist to help him walk after he swayed back and forth a few times. “Did I hurt you?”  
  
“No...” he panted, gritting his teeth. “I’ll be fine,” he wheezed, before coughing into his sleeve for several seconds. When he finally stopped, there was blood on his lips and sleeve. “Ow!” He gasped breathlessly just before his eyes rolled back in his head and he slumped to the floor, pulling her down with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call my muse sadistic for a reason.
> 
> And excuse my lame attempt to make up spells. lol

“Oh my god! Draco!” Hermione yelped. “Tibby, come back! Help!”  
  
“I’se here, Miss,” Tibby said, popping back into the room. Seeing Draco sprawled limply on the floor, she squinted at him for a long time, crossed her eyes, then said, “Oh, that’s not good. His ribs be broken. He’s needin’ skelegro! I’se be back!” With that, she popped back out of the room, but reappeared almost instantly with a bottle Hermione was all too familiar with thanks to Gilderoy Lockhart.  
  
“He has bones, Tibby...” Hermione pointed out, frowning confusedly at the determined looking elf.  
  
“Them ribs gotta go, or he dies!” Tibby protested. “They be poking holes in his lung. They gotta go!” She insisted, crossing her arms across her chest and letting out an exasperated huff.  
  
Hermione shuddered, remembering Harry's floppy arm after Lockhart was done with him. She didn’t want to think about how Draco’s chest might look with a rib or two missing. “Tibby, no!” She jumped between Tibby and the unconscious boy. Turning back to Tibby, she suggested, “Uh, why don’t you let me try fixing his ribs before you, er...get rid of them for him?”  
  
“Alright,” Tibby agreed doubtfully. “Don’t be blaming me if he be more broken when you'se done!”  
  
“I won’t blame you, Tibby,” Hermione promised. She quickly cast ‘ _immobulus_ ’ and ‘ _levicorpus_ ’ on Draco, and carefully moved him from the floor to the small bed that appeared in an empty corner of her bedroom with a snap of Tibby’s tiny fingers.  
  
Once he was safely transferred, she removed both spells and wandlessly summoned a book of healing spells from the bookcase in her sitting room. After double checking the index, she skimmed over the chapter on broken bones until she found a section specifically about ribs. After mumbling the proper spell under her breath a few times, and practicing the proper wand motions, she finally set the book aside, and moved to Draco’s right side. Gently unfastening his robes, then pulling up the vest and shirt underneath, she winced at the huge, black bruise covering his whole right side from just below his right nipple almost down to his hip. “Merlin...”  
  
“Oh my. They hurted him bad,” Tibby squeaked sadly from her perch on the side of the bed.  
  
“They did,” Hermione agreed quietly, trying to suppress her anger for fear it would make her cast the spell incorrectly. Clearing her throat a few times and taking a deep breath, she exclaimed, “ _Restituo costae_!” and swished her wand twice before flicking it at Draco’s ribs.  
  
There was a sickening crunch, and she could _see_ something move beneath Draco’s bruised flesh. Worse, he suddenly woke up, screaming in agony, “I’m sorry, Father! I didn’t mean to! Please, stop!” he begged frantically, covering his head with arms before losing consciousness again.  
  
Hermione let out a choked sob, and Tibby patted her knee comfortingly until she managed to calm herself. “You fixed him, Miss.” Tibby murmured softly, smiling proudly up at Hermione after squinting and crossing her eyes at his chest again,.  
  
“I did?” Hermione asked anxiously, looking hopefully at his chest. "You can tell?”  
  
“We elves, we can see broken bones, and lotsa injuries and sickness. We just can’t fix broken bones. We’se gotta take them out, and regrow new ones with potion.” Tibby shrugged. “Youse way is much better. Over quicker,” she added approvingly. “He gots no more broken bones. Do youse got spells for the holes in his lung?” She asked casually.  
  
“You were serious about that?” Hermione gasped.  
  
Draco chose just then to wheeze loudly, and a little blood bubbled up in the corner of his mouth.  
  
“Oh, Merlin. You _were_ serious!" Hermione whimpered.  
  
Tibby nodded impatiently. "Hurry up!" She urged, gesturing frantically.  
  
Grabbing the book again, Hermione quickly flipped through the pages, and finally raised her wand. “ _Sano Pulmo_!” she shouted, flicking her wand three times at Draco's chest.  
  
He immediately gasped and started coughing up an alarming amount of blood. Hermione quickly rolled him onto his left side, almost onto his stomach. He continued to cough up more blood, including one especially large clot that made Hermione’s stomach lurch. After a few minutes he stopped coughing and went limp. Hermione moved him onto his back again and pressed her ear to the right side of his chest, sighing with relief when it sounded like he was breathing clearly.  
  
Tibby immediately snapped her fingers and magicked the mess away. “All better!” She proclaimed. “You'se did good, Miss Hermione. That was much better way than growin’ him new lungs. Plus, Madam Pomfrey don’t have no potion for that right now,” the elf chattered brightly, enthusiastically pounding Hermione on the back in a congratulatory way that left Hermione wondering if the healing spell for broken ribs could be self-cast.  
  
“Th-thanks, Tibby,” she said, wincing when the elf looked away for a moment. “Did you find the other supplies we need?”  
  
“Yes!” Tibby declared proudly. “I'se brought healing salve, and bandages. And I’s moved his trunk from the Slytherin dorm.” She snapped her fingers again, and an expensive-looking trunk Hermione hadn’t noticed in the far corner of the room flew open.  
  
  
“Oh good. Maybe we should change him into something more comfortable,” Hermione mused, pursing her lips slightly. “We’re going to have to remove his clothing to find all of his injuries, anyway.”  
  
Tibby snapped yet again, and a pair of Slytherin green silk pajamas rose from the neatly folded clothes within. “You'se need me to help you change him?”  
  
“Um, yes, but let's not put him in green...” Hermione smirked slightly. Flicking her wand, she turned the pajamas black. "Here goes..." She swallowed nervously and began to remove his left shoe.  
  
“Why not magick off his clothes one piece at a time?” Tibby suggested, looking amused. “Then we don’t be havin' to move him so much.”  
  
“Oh, right. Good idea.” Hermon blushed. “But I don’t actually know a spell for that...”  
  
“I bet HE knows one,” Tibby giggled. “I thinks all Slytherins be knowing that spell. Lots in the other houses, too. You’se a good girl, Miss Hermione.” The little elf smiled warmly at her, then motioned for her to raise her wand. “I'se seen them do it...you just flick your wand at whatever you wants off, and say ‘divesto’ and the name of what’s comin’ off. Like...’ _divesto shoe_.’”  
  
“You’ve seen them do it?” Hermione grinned teasingly. Tibby shrugged sheepishly. “Okay...” Aiming at the shoe she’d started to untie, she said “ _Divesto shoe_!” and the shoe disappeared, appearing on the floor at the foot of the bed. “Oh! It worked!” Hermione giggled. Tibby nodded encouragingly, and Hermione repeated the spell several more times, removing Draco's other shoe, both socks, his robes, and vest. As all of the items vanished, they reappeared neatly folded in a pile on the foot of the bed. Hermione was almost having fun (and feeling a little guilty for it), when she froze after removing his shirt. In addition to the bruise she’d already seen, his torso and upper arms were covered in bruises, burns, cuts and several dark red, oozing welts from the belt. The worst was a bloody, nearly perfect imprint of the belt’s buckle, slashing across his left nipple. Between his mother's whipping, and his housemates' curses, there was barely an inch of uninjured flesh in the area that had been concealed by his shirt.  
  
“They hurted him where no one else sees,” Tibby muttered angrily. She snapped her fingers briskly, and two jars of dittany ointment appeared on the bed. Taking one, she opened it and moved to Draco’s left side, where she began gently applying it to the wound on his chest.  
  
Hermione picked up the other jar, and began applying it to the wounds on Draco's right side, especially the huge bruise over his ribcage. She had to keep wiping tears from her eyes with the back of her hand as she worked.  
  
“Don’t wipe youse tears away, Miss Hermione. They helps heal,” Tibby said softly. “Especially if they be tears of someone who really wants him to be healed.”  
  
“Really?” Hermione asked, smiling weakly. “That sounds like something from a Disney movie.” She snorted softly.  
  
“I don’t know this Dizzy Moving person, but they must be a good healer,” Tibby murmured solemnly.  
  
Hermione bit her lip hard to keep from laughing, and went back to treating Draco’s injuries. When they had finished applying salve and covering the deeper wounds with bandages, they carefully moved him onto his stomach so they could do his back. Hermione took one look, and almost vomited on the floor beside the bed. There weren’t very many fresh injuries on his back, since his housemates had bound him on his back on the train. There were a few fresh welts that were obviously courtesy of his mother's belt, and a couple of small bruises on his right shoulder that looked like they’d been left by someone’s fingers.  
  
What horrified her was the scars.  
  
Layers of thick, ugly scars, of varying ages covered every inch of his back, criss-crossing each other repeatedly in a pattern that could only mean one thing. Draco had been whipped. A lot. And over a very long period of time. Some were still a livid pink, obviously only a few months old, but some of the older scars looked like they might be five years old, or more. He was only eighteen now...so how long had the abuse been going on? Hermione bit her lip and gazed miserably at his face, which was turned toward her. His features were not quite relaxed, even in sleep. “Oh gods, Tibby. How _could_ they?” She moaned, lowered her head, and covered her eyes with her hands, taking a few deep breaths.  
  
“You'se go take a break, Miss. I'se be finishin' these. I think he’d be feelin’ bad if he knew you'se so upset.” Tibby smiled sympathetically.  
  
“Thanks, Tibby,” Hermione said gratefully. Stumbling wearily into her private bathroom, she washed her face and hands. Pulling her hair back in a ponytail, she took a few more deep breaths, then headed back into her bedroom. She found Draco on his back, still out cold, and wearing the black pajama shirt. Tibby looked up when she entered the room.  
  
“Oh, Miss. I was about to check his legs.” She said, gesturing at his trousers.  
  
"I'll do it," Hermione offered, raising her wand.  
  
"Wait!" Tibby exlaimed. Hermione raised an eyebrow, and the elf shifted awkwardly. "What if he not be wearin’ anything under his trousers, Miss?”  
  
“What?” Hermione snorted. “Why wouldn’t he be?”  
  
Tibby giggled. “You'se really such a good girl, Miss. But he'se being a Slytherin, and lots of them don’t be wearin’ any underthings. Not boys, and the girls neither!”  
  
“Really?” Hermione wrinkled her nose at this information, picturing, despite herself, some of the Slytherins she knew going about their days commando. “Ew. Really?!” she asked again disgustedly.  
  
Tibby nodded solemnly in confirmation.  
  
“Ew!” Hermione rubbed her eyes, trying to get rid of the particularly horrifying mental image of Gregory Goyle, naked from the waist down. Glancing back at Draco, she said, “Well, we’ll just cover...that part of him with a towel or something before we take off his trousers.” Transfiguring her handkerchief into a small hand towel, she laid it very primly over his groin and raised her wand to remove his trousers.  
  
“You'se sure that bein’ big enough?” Tibby asked skeptically.  
  
“Tibby!” Hermione laughed. “You can’t be serious?!”  
  
“I dunno. That cloth's not being very wide. I be hearing things about his father from Dobby.” Tibby shuddered. “If he’s takin’ after his father...you might wanna be turnin’ that towel the long way...”  
  
Hermione frowned. "Why would Dobby know about Lucius'- Wait...I don't want to know." Taking the elf’s advice, she turned the cloth before casting the spell to remove Draco’s trousers. She was immediately glad that she had listened, because he was quite obviously _not_ wearing anything underneath, and the slight bulge she could make out beneath the thick cloth was about an inch longer than what had been covered by the towel's original placement. “Oh my god...” she murmured softly, unable to stop staring while she tried to estimate just how big that towel was.  
  
“I know, Miss. Is terrible.” Tibby murmured sadly.  
  
“What?” Hermione asked confusedly. Tearing her eyes away from the towel, she looked further down his pale legs and her jaw dropped in horror. There were only a few fresh scrapes and bruises, mostly on his knees, which she supposed made sense. His thighs had more scars from the belt. But what had upset Tibby was a fresh welt that curled around his left hip from the back and disappeared under the edge of the towel, pointed straight at his...  
  
“Get out!” Tibby ordered suddenly, in a very un-elf-like manner. “You'se get out, and I deals with that. You'se don’t need to be seein' that!” She pointed imperiously toward the door, and Hermione beat a hasty retreat to the sitting room. “You'se don’t be comin’ back until I says so!” Tibby called after her before the door slammed shut.  
  
“Believe me, I won’t.” Hermione muttered, then bolted back into her bathroom as her stomach heaved violently. After throwing up what seemed like everything she had ever eaten (and some things she swore she’d only thought about eating), she brushed her teeth, then stumbled back to the sitting room and collapsed on the sofa. She stared dazedly into the fire for a long time, unable to believe that anyone, even a sadistic bitch like Narcissa Malfoy, could do something so heinous to their own child. Knowing what she knew now, she couldn’t believe how (relatively) normal Draco was. No wonder he was such a bully...it was a miracle he wasn’t a raging serial killer, for Merlin’s sake!  
  
The door to her bedroom finally clicked open, and Tibby emerged, casually wiping her hand on an embarrassingly familiar towel. “He be awake. He be thinkin’ I did all the healin'. He don’t know you saw anything. And it wasn’t being’ as bad as it looked.” She wrinkled her nose slightly. “He’s bein’ hungry now, so I'se be gettin' him some soup.” Looking Hermione over, she added, “You should be eatin’ some too, if you'se feelin’ better.”  
  
“I will. Thank you for everything, Tibby.” Hermione said gratefully.  
  
“I'se happy to be helpin’. I'se gonna be gettin' a special potion in the morning. Is helpin’ with scars.” Tibby bit her lip. “Them bad Malfoys...they...they...they shoulda not done those things to him!!” With that, she stomped her foot and disappeared with a loud crack.  
  
Sighing tiredly, Hermione dragged herself to her feet. She jumped slightly when a huge tray holding two huge bowls of chicken soup and a steaming teapot, two mugs, and a plate of golden brown, lightly buttered toast appeared on the little table next to her bedroom door. Picking it up, she murmured, “Thanks, Tibby!” Taking a deep breath, she walked into the bedroom.  
  
She found Draco propped up against a huge mound of cushions, with his covers pulled up to his chin. “Is she gone?” he asked fearfully, peering around her legs.  
  
“She’s gone.” Hermione assured him, trying not to laugh at the tiny elf’s effect on the normally composed Slytherin. “How are you feeling?”  
  
“Like I’ve been dipped in a vat of healing salve.” He grinned ruefully. “So...pretty good, actually. My chest still kind of aches though.” He grimaced and rubbed the right side of his chest.  
  
“Yeah, well, I’d imagine it would. You had broken ribs, and a punctured lung, but I-I think Tibby fixed them.” She scrambled to cover the fact that she’d had any part in his healing. Moving across the room, she pulled a chair up beside his bed, and carefully set the tray on the nightstand Tibby had conjured up for him. “Hungry?” she asked, carefully lifting one of the bowls and offering it to him.  
  
“I’m starving.” He smiled sheepishly, reaching out to take it. His hands were shaking so badly that he almost spilled hot soup all over himself.  
  
“Whoa! Here...” Hermione took the bowl back and carefully poured some of the soup into one of the empty mugs. “These bowls are like bloody crocks, they’re so heavy!” She muttered. Grabbing the other mug, she poured soup from her own bowl into it so he wouldn’t feel any more like an invalid than he probably already did.  
  
“Good idea.” Draco smiled softly at her. “You always were brilliant, Gr...Hermione.” With that, he raised his mug and devoured half its contents in one huge gulp.  
  
“It’s so weird hearing you say my name,” Hermione chuckled, slowly sipping her own soup, which was scalding hot. “He really must be starving to eat it so fast!”  
  
“How do you think I feel when you say mine?” He asked, smiling awkwardly at her.  
  
“Point taken,” Hermione giggled, then scratched her neck and loosened her tie.  
  
“I can’t believe you’re still in your uniform.” Draco tsk’d. “Go get out of that thing. I can’t be the only one here in pajamas...it just feels wrong.”  
  
At the mention of his pajamas, Hermione glanced, helpless to stop herself, at his lap. Barely suppressing a shudder, she jumped to her feet. “You’re right! I’m gonna go change!” She reached randomly into the drawer where she kept her pajamas, pulling out the first pair she found before all but running out of the room. Going into the bathroom, she quickly changed into a pair of pink flannel sleep pants and a gray waffle knit top before returning to the bedroom.  
  
Draco was munching on a piece of toast, but when he glanced up at her he coughed, and dropped the toast in his lap.  
  
“Are you alright?” Hermione asked worriedly. “Is it your lung? Does your chest hurt?”  
  
“N-no. I’m fine.” He cleared his throat and lowered his gaze to his lap while she curled up on the chair and resumed eating. “Just swallowed wrong,” he muttered, picking up his toast and turning it over and over in his hands.  
  
“Mmm...that was so good.” Hermione sighed contentedly when she finished her soup. “I’ll go wash the mugs out so we can drink our cocoa.”  
  
“O-okay.” Draco croaked when she jumped up and walked toward the door.  
  
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Hermione stopped in her tracks, and studied him closely.  
  
“Um...do you own a robe? Um...a bathrobe?” He asked in a strained voice. “Something big and frumpy, maybe?”  
  
“What?” Hermione frowned, completely and utterly confused. "Why?"  
  
“For Merlin’s sake, woman, I can’t...you look...I’ve never seen you in something so...” He gestured vaguely. “Can you cover up?”  
  
“What’s wrong with this?” Hermione glanced down at her pajamas and realized they were a lot more form-fitting than her uniform and most of the jeans, t-shirts and jumpers she wore on weekends. Then it hit her...he was actually getting turned on by seeing her in her pajamas. She glanced up at his pained expression and gasped, remembering the welt she’d seen leading under that stupid towel. “Oh...um...yes...robe. I have one...sorry!” Rushing to her wardrobe, she grabbed a random shirt, transfigured it into a fluffy pink fleece bathrobe and pulled it on. Turning back to him, she mumbled, “Sorry about that. I-I always wore pajamas around Gryffindor Tower but no one said anything. I’m sorry if I o-offended you.”  
  
Draco was still staring at his hands. “Did she tell you?” he whispered.  
  
“What?” Hermione asked, feigning ignorance.  
  
“Did Tibby tell you what she saw?” He demanded, gesturing vaguely at his crotch. She flinched, and he frowned as he looked more closely at her face. “I can’t believe she told you!”  
  
“She didn’t have to tell me,” Hermione admitted reluctantly. “I was h-helping her. Or she was helping me...I healed your ribs. House elves’ magic can’t fix broken bones.” Biting her lip, she sat on the edge of the bed beside him. “I wasn’t there when she...I mean, I left the room after we ch-checked your legs...and we’d put a towel over...you know...before we removed your trousers.” Glancing up at him nervously, she found his face was beat red, but she couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “I-I didn’t see...you know. There was a towel...” She finished lamely, lowering her eyes to her own hands, wringing them anxiously.  
  
“Did you see...” his voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. “Didyouseemyback?” he mumbled quickly.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Hermione whispered, nodding slightly. “I had no idea, Draco.” She reached out to touch his hand, but he jerked it away.  
  
“Can you please call me Malfoy?” He muttered. “It’s too weird when you call me, Draco. And that’s what _they_ call me.” She wasn't sure if he meant his parents or his so-called friends, but decided it really didn't matter.  
  
“O-okay. Malfoy.” She nodded, chewing on her lip.  
  
“I wish you’d never found me on that bloody tower, Hermione. I should have just let go. All I’m doing is making you even more miserable than I already have,” he growled softly, twisting his blanket in his hands.  
  
“Don’t say that!” Hermione snapped. “I’m glad I found you! Now I can help you! I can make sure those damned Slytherins get punished for what they did to you. Don’t even get me started on your mother!”  
  
“I love my mother!” He whispered, his eyes going wide. “You can’t tell anyone about her. They might take her away! And if you rat on the Slytherins, they’ll hurt her! They said so!”  
  
“Does every Death Eater family in Britain know how that woman has brainwashed you?” Hermione grumbled. “They’re taking advantage of your fear of anything happening to her to get away with doing whatever they want to you!”  
  
“What?” He frowned confusedly. “I’m not brainwashed. I love my mother, and she loves me. I can’t let her get hurt!”  
  
Hermione stared at him in disbelief for a moment. Shaking her head to try to clear her whirling thoughts, she said, “You know what, never mind. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.” Sighing irritably, she grabbed their mugs and cast a quick ‘ _scourgify_ ’ before pouring them each some hot chocolate.  
  
“What are you going to do? What am _I_ going to do? I can’t go to class...they all think I’m dead. If they find out I’m alive, they’ll probably just try harder to kill me. Or they might try to kill _you_. And they’ll go after my mother...” He started to breath faster and faster, obviously panicking.  
  
Hermione climbed back onto his bed with him and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. “Shhhhh. Calm down, Dra...Malfoy. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. And they aren’t going to kill me...they’re all afraid of me for a _reason_ , remember? I’m a damn war hero.”  
  
Once his breathing had slowed, Draco nodded slightly. “I know. I’m afraid of you, too. “ He said it jokingly, but she could see in his eyes that it was partially true.  
  
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, but I want to ‘ _crucio_ ’ _them_ into next week!” He winced, and she sighed. “Not that I would.”  
  
“I know you wouldn’t.” He nodded knowingly. They just sat there looking at each other for a while as an awkward silence filled the room, then Draco let out a huge yawn. It seemed like it might have been a bit faked, but Hermione didn’t care.  
  
“Um...we really should try to get some sleep,” she suggested, jumping to her feet and hoping she didn’t sound too eager. “It’s really late,” she added as she walked over to her own bed.  
  
“O-okay.” Draco started chewing his lip when she climbed into bed and leaned over to put out the lamp on her nightstand.  
  
Noticing his expression, she gently asked, “Do you want me to leave it on?”  
  
“The snakes would have a field day.” He snorted, avoiding her gaze.  
  
She left the lamp on.  
  
“Let them. Who cares what they think?” She shrugged and rolled over onto her stomach, hugging her pillow to her chest.  
  
“Thanks,” She barely heard his soft whisper as she closed her eyes and drifted off into an exhausted sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: I got the name Tibby from my ex-husband's adorable, tiny, French-Canadian grandmother who also goes by Tibby (short for her maiden name). She doesn't talk like this, obviously, (and she wears real clothes), but she has huge glasses that make her eyes look really big, and her voice is kind of high pitched, and she just always kind of made me think of a house elf for some reason. And her nickname sounds like a house elf name, so...there ya go. lol


	5. Chapter 5

Shortly after breakfast the next morning, Ron cornered her in the library, with Harry and Ginny reluctantly in tow. “You can’t seriously plan to spend the day in the library? Classes haven’t even started yet!” He barked irritably. The students had been brought in on a Saturday to give them time to settle in, so they had all day Sunday to do whatever they wanted. In Hermione's case, that meant researching mind control spells.  
  
“I bloody well _can_ , Ronald. And I do,” She snapped back. “You do realize that you have no right to order me around like I’m your bloody dog or something, right?”  
  
“Ron, leave her alone!” Harry muttered, grabbing his friend by the back of his jumper, and dragging him away. “Sorry, ‘Mione!” He called back over his shoulder. “We’ll be in Hogsmeade if you get tired and want to take a break later.”  
  
“I’m _already_ tired...” She muttered once the three were out of earshot. She had been awakened at around 3 o'clock by Dra...er...Malfoy thrashing and screaming in his sleep. He hadn’t calmed down until she’d climbed onto his bed and wrapped her arms around him, whispering soothing words until he finally relaxed. Every time she'd tried to get out of his bed, he'd whimpered, clinging to her in his sleep. Needless to say, it had taken her a long time to fall back asleep.  
  
Yawning, Hermione started to read the spines of the books in front of her, but her mind soon drifted back to later in the morning, when the bells in the clock tower had rang deafeningly at seven o’clock, and she had realized: A) Just how bloody _close_ her suite was to the clock tower, and B) That her former worst enemy was sleeping closely pressed against her back, with his arms wrapped around her. What she had taken for a really firm pillow was really his silk-clad bicep, and his other arm was draped over her torso, just below her breasts. Despite the obvious annoyance caused by discovery A, she was almost enjoying B. It felt rather nice to be held like that, even if it was by a total git.  
  
Then, she’d realized to her total horror that said git was also enjoying it on some level; the unmistakeable evidence thereof was pressed against her lower back.  
  
She had tried to wriggle away from him, assuming he was probably dreaming about someone else, but he’d just pulled her closer to him, nuzzled her neck, and mumbled, “You smell really good.” That had stopped her dead in her tracks.  
  
“Malfoy?” She had squeaked, now terrified to move.  
  
“Granger?” He’d replied groggily.  
  
“Are you awake?” She’d asked in a small voice.  
  
“Yeah, why?” He’d sounded confused.  
  
“H-how long have you been awake?” She’d asked curiously.  
  
“Not long,” he chuckled sheepishly, releasing her go so she could turn toward him. “You know, you could strike me dead right now, and this would still be the nicest morning I’ve had in ages. Even with that bloody bell!” He reached over, grabbed his wand from somewhere under his pillow, and cast a muffling spell on the walls, floor, and ceiling. The bells quieted immediately.  
  
“S-so, you knew you were in bed with _me_?” She asked, still confused.  
  
“Technically, this is my bed, so you are in bed with me,” he joked, avoiding the question.  
  
“Are you feeling okay?” Hermione frowned, and held her hand to his forehead.  
  
“Yes!” He laughed and pulled her hand away, moving it to his arm. “I feel better than I have in months.” He sighed contentedly. "Sorry about that. I didn't know it was you when I first woke up, but you _do_ smell good, Granger," he said, wiggling his eyebrows teasingly. "Really good."  
  
Hermione froze again, “Um...I think maybe you’re feeling some kind of bizarre side effect from all that healing ointment or something.”  
  
"I can't just be in a good mood because I got a good night sleep for once, and woke up in a comfortable bed, next to a relatively friendly face, rather than..." he trailed off suddenly, and his face went blank, like it had several times the night before. She wasn’t all that surprised when he blurted, "I love my mother. I miss her. I hope she's alright. Do you think she's alright?" As he spoke, he began shaking all over.  
  
"I'm sure she's fine, Dra-Malfoy," Hermione reassured him, barely suppressing an eye roll. More determined than ever to figure out what Narcissa had done to him, she had called for Tibby, requesting that the house elf assist Draco while she was gone, and make sure that no one else entered her rooms.  
  
She'd left the blond devouring a large breakfast, and after making a brief stop in the Great Hall (just long enough to scarf down some toast and a bowl of porridge), she’d ensconced herself at her favorite table in the library.  
  
Draco didn't exhibit the tell tale signs of being under the Imperius spell, so she spent the next few hours after her friends left trying to find a dark magic spell that could partially control, or brainwash the victim only in relation to certain people or things. No such spell seemed to exist, and she was starting to wonder if Draco really was literally just brainwashed, without magical influence. But if his parents had gone through all the time and effort to brainwash him the muggle way, why wouldn’t they have “programmed” him to be obsessed with (and overly protective of), Lucius as well as Narcissa? He didn't seem to care at _all_ that his father had been murdered in prison.  
  
" _He's being protective_ ," she mused after pushing a particularly useless book away. " _Hmm...what if it isn't a dark spell after all? Maybe it's a light spell that has been used for dark purposes_?" She was just about to try looking for a light magic spell that might make someone ridiculously protective of another person when Headmistress McGonagall nearly scared the daylights out of her by tapping her on the shoulder from behind.  
  
“Miss Granger, could you please come with me? I have something very important I need to discuss with you," the Headmistress requested sternly.  
  
Hermione wondered briefly why they couldn’t talk in the library, but after a quick look around she saw that a dozen or so other students, mostly Ravenclaws, were now in the library...several of them within earshot. “Of course, Headmistress.” She nodded and rose to her feet,quickly gathering the books she had been studying.  
  
McGonagall glanced at the cover of the top book and pursed her lips disapprovingly. Hermione glanced down, and saw that it was 'Darkest Magick Through the Ages.' Wonderful. “This was on the table when I got here,” she lied, quickly depositing the entire stack on one of the reshelving carts, making sure none of the other titles in the pile were visible.  
  
“I see,” McGonagall replied, seeming somewhat unconvinced. “Shall we?” She gestured for Hermione to precede her. When they arrived in the Headmistress’ office, Hermione was surprised to see Neville seated across from McGonagall’s desk, looking a bit uncomfortable. She immediately thought, to her great relief, that this impromptu meeting must be in regards to Head Student business, and not because McGonagall had sensed from half a castle away that Hermione was up to something.  
  
“You’re probably wondering why I asked you both here,” McGonagall began. “I’m afraid I have some rather dire news. One of our students appears to be missing.”  
  
Hermione’s heart sank. The meeting _was_ about Draco. "Can I speak with you alone?" she asked immediately. She'd hoped to have more information about whatever was wrong with the Slytherin before going to the headmistress, but she needed to tell McGonagall what was going on. She just wasn't crazy about doing so with Neville sitting there. He was a lot more confident than he used to be, but she couldn’t risk him cracking under pressure if the Slytherins cornered him. Or just randomly blurting it out, period.  
  
"Is this in regards to Mr. Malfoy?" McGonagall asked in a tone that left Hermione with no doubt that the older woman knew _exactly_ where Draco could be found.  
  
"Professor...er...Headmistress...I'm afraid I've made a promise not to reveal certain information. It's a matter of life and death." She glanced at Neville. "It's _not_ that I don't trust you," she told him apologetically.  
  
McGonagall sighed heavily. "Mr. Longbottom, could you please excuse us?"  
  
"Of course." Neville rose immediately. As he walked past Hermione, he murmured, "Peeves my arse," out of the corner of his mouth.  
  
Hermione winced. "I'm really sorry, Neville."  
  
"I get it. It's okay. Really." He flashed her a quick, reassuring smile, nodded politely to Professor McGonagall, and left the office.  
  
When they heard the door at the bottom of the stairs close with a loud thud, McGonagall steepled her fingers under her chin, and pinned Hermione with a piercing gaze. "So...about Mr. Malfoy..." she murmured expectantly.  
  
"He's hiding," Hermione admitted, squirming. "In my suite. He swore me to secrecy, but luckily he didn't make me take a magical oath. I was going to tell you as soon as I figure out what’s wrong with him." Given her lack of progress on that front, she knew she would have broken down soon, anyway.  
  
"Why is he hiding?" McGonagall asked quietly, seemingly unfazed by Hermione's confession.  
  
"A group of Slytherins hexed him and beat him really badly on the train, and then Blaise Zabini tried to force him to jump off the Astronomy tower!” Hermione blurted.  
  
“He did what?!” McGonagall asked, her cool demeanor finally slipping. “I suspected Mister Zabini might be involved somehow. Albus’ portrait likes to wander through the frames, and he saw Zabini sneaking into the Astronomy tower last night. We were afraid something might have happened after one of the old Rosier portraits in the Slytherin common room reported this morning that Mister Malfoy had never turned up there last night. Unfortunately, the portrait of Professor Stratarius in the Astronomy tower slept through whatever occurred there, the old-" She stopped and cleared her throat, visibly pulling herself together. "We were concerned, but I had no idea it was so serious!”  
  
" _So that was how the Fat Lady knew someone was in the tower..._ "  
  
“They all think he betrayed their parents, I think,” Hermione said softly. Biting her lip, she murmured, “There’s more. Check my memories. His parents have both abused him, but he can't say anything about it. One of them forced him to take a blood oath, swearing not to tell. I had to use Legilimency on him. He sort of gave me permission, as best he could," she added quickly when McGonagall frowned. "He also seems to be brainwashed or something to be overly protective of his mum. That's what I was researching when you found me in the library.”  
  
McGonagall frowned, but took out her wand and placed it to Hermione’s head. Since Hermione didn’t fight the spell at all, it only felt slighly uncomfortable when the Headmistress used Legilimency to see the memories had Hermione pushed to the front of her mind...everything she’d seen in Draco’s head, as well as the events of the night before.  
  
Blanching, McGonagall stared at Hermione, looking completely enraged. “I’ll see that woman rot in Azkaban if it’s the last thing I do!” She growled. "Please take me to him immediately."  
  
***  
  
“You can’t do that! It’s not my mother’s fault! You can’t hurt her!” Draco sobbed a short time later, even as he glared daggers at the Headmistress, who frowned back, though not without sympathy.  
  
To say that their "intervention" with the Slytherin was not going well would be an understatement of epic proportions. When McGonagall declared her intention to inform the Department of Magical Law Enforcement of the Malfoys' mistreatment of their son, Draco had become frantic.  
  
McGonagall had also noticed his odd protectiveness for the woman who had so savagely abused him. “Mister Malfoy, I cannot claim to understand your bizarre desire to protect that woman, but I assure you, your mother does, indeed, deserve punishment for what she’s done to you,” she snapped back, obviously having difficulty keeping her own emotions in check. Taking a deep breath, she continued more gently, “I think Hermione is correct...your mother is manipulating you somehow.”  
  
“No, she wouldn’t do that!” Draco protested, glanced angrily at Hermione. “Why did you tell her about my mum? How could you do that?! I love my mother!” His eyes were wild and unfocused, and his breathing had become shallow and ragged.  
  
Hermione glanced helplessly back and forth between them. “You need help, Draco,” she finally whispered thickly, her throat tight from her increasingly futile struggle not to cry.  
  
“I hate you!” He hissed at her, stomping his foot and heading for the door leading to the corridor. "I never should have trusted you!"  
  
“Stupefy!” McGonagall turned her wand on him just as his hand touched the doorknob, sending him to the floor like a ton of bricks.  
  
“Professor!” Hermione yelped. “His ribs! They’re still healing!” She raced to his side and dropped to her knees beside him, gently rolling him to his back.  
  
“He’s fine, Miss Granger. I threw in a bit of a cushioning spell before he landed,” McGonagall explained gently. “I just didn’t want him bolting out of here like a fool. Wouldn't want him running into any of his housemates before I have the Ministry come sort things out.”  
  
“Oh.” Hermione smiled sheepishly, then looked down at Draco’s unconscious form. “He hates me...again,” she mumbled regretfully . “We were actually getting along last night. I just wanted to help. It's so obvious his mother’s done something to him...” She shook her head confusedly as she pushed herself to her feet and faced the Headmistress.  
  
“I know, my dear,” McGonagall sighed. “Let me take care of his safety here, and then we’ll work out what’s going on with his mother. I expect she’ll be making a one-way trip to Azkaban, but we don’t need to let him know that just yet.”  
  
“O-okay...” Hermione sniffle, wiping her eyes.  
  
“I’m going to have Poppy keep him in the infirmary for now. I understand your reasons for hiding him here, but you must know I cannot allow him to remain here.” McGonagall smiled kindly at Hermione.  
  
“H-he wouldn’t want to stay here anymore anyway.” Hermione shrugged listlessly. “You heard him...he hates me.”  
  
“Tosh...that’s just his mother’s influence talking, I’m sure.” McGonagall patted her on the shoulder. “I’ll inform Poppy that you are the only student aware of his situation, and tell her to allow you to see him.”  
  
“He won’t want to see me.” Hermione shook her head. “Don’t bother.”  
  
“Hermione,” McGonagall said her name firmly and waited until she looked up to continue. “Do you realize that you may be the closest thing he has to a friend at this school? I think he’ll want to see you. Just give him time.” Patting her shoulder again, she turned toward Draco, who was starting to moan in his magick-imposed sleep. “Would you like to say goodbye to him?”  
  
Hermione nodded and knelt beside him again, gently pushing his hair away from his face. Leaning over, she whispered, “I’m sorry, Malfoy. Please don’t hate me. I just wanted to help.”  
  
He twitched slightly in his sleep, and mumbled something almost unintelligible. All she could make out were the words, “Hate,” and “away.” Gasping, she jumped to her feet, cast an anguished look at the startled Headmistress, then ran into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her. After angrily flicking her wand at the cot in the corner to send it back to storage (or possibly to the middle of the Forbidden Forest), she threw herself face down on her own bed, and tried to get herself under control.  
  
She didn’t understand the way she was feeling. Until last night, with few exceptions, she had felt only animosity toward Draco Malfoy. Mild irritation at _best_. So why did the fact that he’d said he’d hated her suddenly make her feel like she’d been punched in the stomach? It wasn't like she'd lost her best friend; she’d never considered him as anything but a rival and a bully.  
  
He was so different now, though, without the threat of Voldemort’s wrath hanging over his head. His old cockiness and arrogance were practically gone, and he seemed to be sincerely sorry for everything he’d done. Having seen his memories, she could definitely understand his previous behavior. She wasn’t sure if he had changed, or if he was just finally able to be himself. Either way, it was a vast improvement.  
  
Thinking about McGonagall's words...her suggestion that she might be Draco's only friend at Hogwarts, she sighed unhappily. As crazy as it was, she realized she really had wanted to give their budding friendship a chance. But now it was over before it really began. He hated her, and she wouldn't be surprised if he never wanted to speak to her again.  
  
It wasn't fair, really. She’d only wanted to help. To make sure that bitch Narcissa was punished for what she did to him, and could never hurt him again.  
  
Sniffling, Hermione sat up and wiped her eyes. She’d succeeded in _that_ , at least. Even if he went back to behaving like a total arse, it was worth it. His mother wasn’t going to hurt him again. That seemed like a fair trade. It wasn’t like she wasn’t used to him despising her. She had seven years of experience with that, after all.  
  
Realizing that she needed a distraction to keep her mind off the events of the last 24 hours, she decided to seek out Harry and Ginny. They were so happy these days; spending time with them should cheer her up, even if it meant also spending time with Ron...  
  
***  
  
A few hours later, Hermione finally returned to her suite. She had caught up with her friends in Hogsmeade, and spent the afternoon following them around in a sort of numbed fog. She honestly couldn’t remember much about where they had gone, or what they had done. She knew that she’d done a poor job of hiding her mental state, because all three had asked her more than once if she was okay. She’d lied of course, claiming to be fine.  
  
Sighing heavily, she slumped down on her sofa and stared dismally at the spot on the floor in front of her, where she had forced Draco’s memories from him. Was that really just the night before? It seemed like ages ago. Frowning slightly when some of his more painful memories pushed through into her conscious mind, she stood back up and went into the bathroom, filling the tub with steaming hot water and vanilla scented oil. After slowly undressing, she finally lowered herself into the almost painfully hot water, trying to relax and will away the memory of the last 24 hours. This sudden stupid obsession with Malfoy just needed to stop. He was going to be alright, so she just needed to get his awful memories out of her head and get on with her own life.  
  
After her bath, she wandered back into her sitting room and skimmed over the first chapters of the textbooks for her classes the next day. Unlike her pre-war self, she had no interest in spending all of her time on schoolwork. She hadn’t even read the texts in their entirety yet...there would be plenty of time for that as she went along. When she had finished her cursory review, she pulled out a muggle romance novel, curled up in bed, and read until she drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I gave this warning on one of my other stories...I might be updating sporadically for the next few months. My mom just bought me all seven books of the "Outlander" series by Diana Gabaldon. I'm gonna be busy for a while. ;-) I'll try to update when I can (I still have a lot left to be posted), but I haven't really felt like writing since I got them.
> 
> Rereading the first book, I've realized how much it affected my damn Muse (it's been years since I first read it). No wonder she picks on Draco so much...she's somehow confused him with Jamie Fraser? I don't know how on earth anyone could make that mistake...
> 
> Yes, I talk about my muse like she's another person. If you ever witnessed me trying to write, you'd totally understand. lol


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Hermione woke to the ear-splitting peal of the clock bells. Groaning, she rubbed her face, then cast ‘muffliato’ repeatedly on each wall, the ceiling and floor of her bedroom, finally blocking out the noise well enough that she could hear herself think. She wondered what spell Dra-Malfoy had used to completely block the racket the day before. The thought immediately made her groan again, upon remembering the events of the previous day.

Sighing, she threw back her covers and dragged herself out of bed, taking a quick shower and drying her hair before slowly dressing in her uniform and gathering her books and supplies for her first day of classes. At least she’d have classes and homework today to distract her from yesterday's disaster.

At least that's what she thought until McGonagall met her in the front entrance hall when she walked down for breakfast. Once again, Neville was waiting with the Headmistress. "Ah...Miss Granger...there you are. I wanted to speak with you both before I allow the aurors in to arrest Mr Zabini," McGonagall said grimly after ushering them away from the steady stream of students entering the Great Hall.

"They're arresting Blaise?" Neville blurted, clearly shocked.

"He attempted to murder another student, so, yes, it seemed to be rather called for, don’t you think?" McGonagall replied, her usual dry humor belying the seriousness of the situation. She turned and nodded to a man in official-looking black robes who was standing just inside the main entrance before turning her attention back to Hermione and Neville. "Now, I need to get in there. Hermione, please fill Neville in on the situation. The others are receiving a month's detention with Filch, and Slytherin will be lucky to get back into the positive for house points before the New Year." She smirked a tiny bit, her eyes flashing with a sort of vicious glee, before shaking herself and adding, "Thanks to you, Hermione, Mr. Malfoy is recovering nicely, Poppy will be releasing him later today. She suggests you look into a career as a healer. Oh, and do try to keep the details of this debacle out of the gossip mill as long as possible." With that, she bowed her head slightly and crossed the entrance hall to join a group of about eight dark-robed aurors as they entered the Great Hall.

Hermione met Neville's incredulous gaze, and quickly explained everything. She left out the part about Draco’s parents beating him, deciding it was not related to what had happened at Hogwarts, and therefore none of Neville’s business. However, she did tell him that Draco had been tortured and coerced by Voldemort and his followers to force him to do most of the vile things he'd done in the last few years.

"Merlin, you've been busy the last few days! This was supposed to be your quiet year, 'Mione!" Neville teased when she was finished.

"And everyone thought Harry was the trouble magnet," Hermione joked weakly.

"Harry did always say Malfoy was hiding things," Neville pointed out somberly. "I can't believe I'm saying this, but I almost feel bad for the poor guy."

"I know, right?" Hermione chuckled sadly. "We should try to keep an eye on him, if we can."

"Now that sounds like something Harry would say," Neville snorted, but quickly grew serious. "I agree, but for now we should probably get in there." He tipped his head toward the Great Hall and pushed away from the wall he’d been leaning on.

"You go ahead," Hermione said. "I need to...freshen up." She hoped that maybe if she stalled long enough, the aurors...and Zabini...would be gone by the time she got in there. She wasn't sure she could resist the urge to hex the bastard. She was also somewhat nervous about her first official day as Head Girl.

"Don't take too long, or I'll send Luna and Ginny in after you." Neville winked and walked away.

Hermione went into the nearest restroom to give herself a much needed pep talk in front of the mirror, which added its own helpful comments like, "At least your hair doesn't look quite so dreadful this year," and "Did you shrink your teeth some more?"

When it asked if she had cast 'engorgio' on her breasts, she decided she'd rather face whatever was happening in the Great Hall. Taking a deep breath, she left the bathroom, crossed the entrance hall, and opened the door to the Great Hall. She found everything in an uproar. Everyone seemed to be talking at once, and many of the older Slytherins were on their feet, protesting loudly as four Aurors led a struggling Blaise Zabini from the room.

Zabini was screaming in Italian, his eyes wide and crazed. When they fell on Hermione, his face turned almost impossibly red, and he screamed even louder, spittle flying from his lips. Hermione didn’t know much Italian, but she was pretty sure that whatever he was saying was not complimentary. Several other Slytherins were now giving her murderous looks. Her heart sank. This wasn't just the usual racist bullshit. They knew. It shouldn't be possible, but somehow the ringleaders of Draco's attack knew that she had helped him. They knew that she had told McGonagall about everything...about Zabini.

“Goody-goody mudblood bitch!” shouted Daphne Greengrass, a girl Hermione barely knew from the classes they’d had together, throwing a crumpet at her. It bounced somewhat comically off Hermione’s chest, and landed on the floor in front of her.

Everyone froze, even Blaise. Well, everyone except the Aurors, who seized the chance to finally whisk Blaise from the room.

“That is enough!” McGonagall bellowed furiously. “Everyone in your seats now! Miss Greengrass, that’s fifty more points from Slytherin, and you will serve detention with Mister Filch for an additional two weeks. I will not tolerate continued blood prejudice in this school, is that understood?”

Everyone nodded mutely, and settled into their seats. Hermione rushed to the Gryffindor table, and plopped into an empty space between Ginny and Neville. Harry was directly across from her, with Ron beside him. Ron seemed to be pointedly ignoring her as he began talking to Seamus about Quidditch, which was just fine with Hermione.

“Why are the Slytherins so mad at you?” Ginny asked the instant Hermione’s bum hit the seat. “Did you have something to do with Zabini getting arrested?”

Hermione sighed. She should have known the younger girl would make the connection quickly. “Y-yes.” She nodded reluctantly, not wanting to share the whole sordid story. It was Drac...er...Malfoy’s story to tell, if he wanted to, which she was pretty sure he didn’t. “I found out that he had cast an Unforgivable on someone. I’m not supposed to share the details though...to protect the victim’s privacy.”

“Oh come on...who was it? You can at least tell us who it was,” Ron piped up, suddenly paying attention.

“She really can’t Ron,” Neville spoke up in Hermione’s defense. “McGonagall would have our hides.” He smiled sympathetically at Hermione, and gently touched her elbow under the table.

Hermione smiled gratefully at him when the others reluctantly dropped the subject and focused on their breakfast. Her appetite being less than stellar, Hermione picked at some toast and bacon while drinking a cup of heavily sugared coffee in hopes of it giving her some energy for the day. It was extremely difficult to ignore the scathing looks being shot at her from the Slytherin table.

She noticed that the first years in all the houses looked terribly anxious, and felt a pang of sympathy for the younger students. They looked like-no, they were just children. She couldn’t believe that she herself had been so young and innocent when she first came here. She'd hoped that with Voldemort gone, these children would be able to retain that innocence a lot longer than she and her classmates had, but now here they were being exposed to the same old prejudices on the first day of classes.

Her appetite now totally gone, she dropped her half-eaten toast on her plate and jumped to her feet the moment the bell sounded to signal that it was time for the first class of the day. She groaned when she realized that it was mixed Herbology...with the Slytherins. Just her luck.

As the Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years...a huge group that included those who should have graduated the previous year, as well as the younger group who had just moved up from their sixth year...walked to the greenhouses, Daphne Greenbush and Theodore Nott stomped past Hermione, Harry, Ron, Ginny and Neville. Theodore 'accidentally' stumbled on a root, ran into Hermione, and knocked her down in a patch of muddy earth. Harry and Ron jumped to her assistance, both glaring menacingly at the smirking Slytherins. Then, Neville calmly (and a bit smugly) took twenty points from Slytherin for Nott's supposed 'clumsiness,' and threatened to add to Daphne’s detentions when she opened her mouth to speak.

Hermione was impressed once again by the changes she was seeing in her fellow Head. Self-confidence definitely suited him. She wondered when Luna would get up the nerve to make her move. Smiling to herself as she scourgified the mud from her uniform, she assured her friends that she was fine, and they continued on their way.

“Hey...where’s Malfoy?” Ron wondered suddenly, looking around the somewhat crowded greenhouse while they waited for Madam Sprout.

“He, uh...” Hermione started, then trailed off, unsure what excuse she should give.

“He got sick on the train,” Neville answered. “He’s in the infirmary.”

Hermione frowned as the others made jokes about the blond Slytherin being such a wimp that he could be taken down by simple motion sickness, but at least they accepted the story without question. Just then, Madam Sprout arrived, and they were all kept very busy for the next two hours trying to transplant razor grass (which lashed around in a manner that would have made the whomping willow proud), without losing a finger. Or a hand.

Hermione’s next class was Arithmancy. Fortunately there were no Slytherins in the small group that still took the subject at the highest level. When she walked into the classroom, Luna was already seated near the front. The blonde smiled, and waved her over to the vacant seat beside her. “I’m not sure I can do this,” the younger girl whispered, a hint of nervousness in her usual airy tone, as soon as Hermione sat down.

“Arithmancy?” Hermione asked, confused, since she couldn't recall ever seeing the blonde express any hint of insecurity or doubt about anything. “You’re brilliant at it.”

“No...Neville,” Luna moaned. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’ve never felt like this before. I think I have narphblats in my stomach. They get all riled up every time he’s nearby, and it’s so distracting I can’t even speak to him!”

Hermione choked back a laugh. “Luna, that’s just nerves. It’s perfectly normal when you...you know...like someone. Haven’t you ever liked someone like that before?

“Oh?” Luna thought for a moment. “Not really, no. Not like this.” She flushed slightly. “Neville’s different. He’s my best friend, you know? What if things don’t work out?”

Hermione stared at the younger witch. “Luna, I’ve never seen you so uncertain about anything. You always seem to know exactly what’s going to happen. What do your instincts tell you about Neville?”

Luna frowned thoughtfully, then smiled. “I’m going to tell him how I feel at lunch.” She nodded firmly, and Hermione grinned, patting her on the arm as Professor Vector walked into the classroom.

“It’ll be fine, Lu,” she whispered just before the lecture began.

As the class went on (which seemed to take longer than normal because Luna kept fidgeting, and looking at her watch), Hermione could almost literally feel the nervous energy and excitement pouring off the other girl. It brought back memories of when she and Ron had first started dating, which made her feel a bit queasy. When she tried to focus on the lesson, she suddenly thought of Malfoy, though he was definitely not a subject she particularly wanted to think about, either. She wondered despite herself how he was doing, and if his mother had been arrested yet. She was suddenly brought out of her unhappy thoughts when Luna tapped her on the shoulder.

“Class is over, silly. What are you daydreaming about?” Luna chuckled lightly. “I’m the one meant to be distracted by a boy.”

“I wasn’t thinking about a boy!” Hermione protested. "Not the way you mean, anyway."

Luna looked at her thoughtfully. “Mmhmm.” She finally nodded, looking unconvinced. “Come on, it’s lunch time!” She grabbed Hermione’s arm, and dragged her from her seat with surprising strength. “Hurry up!” She urged impatiently while Hermione quickly threw her things back in her bag.

“You can go ahead without me.” Hermione giggled, amused by her friend’s eagerness.

“No, I really can’t. I need moral support to keep the narphbl...I mean...my nerves from getting the better of me again,” Luna replied, chewing her lip.

“It’ll be fine.” Hermione smiled sympathetically as she slung her satchel over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

As they approached the Great Hall, Luna’s steps faltered slightly for just a moment before she took a deep breath and marched straight to the Gryffindor table. Neville was already seated, preparing to take a bite from a huge roast beef sandwich. Hermione winced at the sight of the sandwich, which reminded her of Malfoy again. Shaking off the unwelcome memory, she watched Luna bend over and whisper something in Neville’s ear. He looked up at her, seeming surprised and slightly confused for a moment, then smiled and nodded.

Luna grinned nervously at Hermione while Neville added another sandwich to his plate, grabbed a couple of bottles of butterbeer from the table, and then offered his arm to Luna. “We’re going to go eat by the lake and have a little talk,” Luna whispered to Hermione as they passed by.

“Good luck!” Hermione whispered back, and watched as the pair walked out of the room.

“What’s that all about?” Ron asked, his mouth full of food.

“You are so thick,” Ginny muttered, swatting him on the back of the head and winking at Hermione.

“What’d you do that for?” Ron protested. Everyone nearby laughed and rolled their eyes.

“Ron, you’re my best mate, and I love you like a brother, but you really are thick.” Harry chuckled. “Luna’s asking him out, idiot.”

“She’s...” Ron trailed off, and glanced at the doors. “Oh! Oh! Right! Of course. That makes sense.” He immediately went back to stuffing his face.

Hermione rolled her eyes, and was just about to reach for a turkey sandwich when the room suddenly went deathly quiet. Following the gaze of her fellow students, her heart stuttered as she saw Draco walking into the Hall. He looked paler than usual, and he hesitated noticeably before slowly walking toward the Slytherin table. He took a seat at the very end, and the other students nearby all slid down the benches away from him, leaving him completely alone with about six feet of table to himself. He sat ramrod straight in a transparent attempt to pretend this didn’t bother him, but Hermione noticed that he didn’t eat a bite.

“Hermione, you’re not eating. Staring at that slimy git isn’t going to do any good for your appetite.” Ron’s voice startled her, and she jerked, realizing that she had been staring. “What are you looking at him for, anyway? Do you think he’s up to something?”

“No, Ronald.” Hermione sighed. “I just feel bad for him. He doesn’t have any friends anymore.” Oops, she hadn’t meant to let that slip out, but she supposed it was rather obvious, anyway.

“Well, he deserves it.” Ron shrugged. “Besides, who wants friends like he had anyway? Bunch of Death Eaters. I’m surprised he’s not locked up with them. He probably helped Zabini attack whoever he cursed. That guy’s not that good with curses. In fact, the ferret probably did it himself and let Zabini take the fall.”

“He did not!” Hermione protested loudly, then cleared her throat. “Ronald, you really should keep your mouth shut while you eat. Especially when you have no idea what you’re talking about,” she hissed angrily. Appetite completely gone again, she grabbed her bag and stood up, storming out of the Hall.

Behind her, she heard Ginny ask, “What did you do now, moron?”

Smirking slightly at this, Hermione glanced at Draco, and their eyes met briefly. She smiled shyly at him, but he looked away abruptly, then looked back, frowning slightly. Hermione’s smile faded, and she hurried out of the Hall, heading out the front doors of the castle.

She started toward the lake, then remembered that Luna had taken Neville there, so she settled for sitting on a stone bench near a rather pathetically trickling fountain in the courtyard. The statue of a young woman standing in the middle was missing the arm that had once poured an endless pitcher of water into the basin below. Instead, water was now spurting sporadically from a gaping hole in the statue's shoulder. Hermione shivered at the vivid reminder that Hogwarts had not fully recovered from the battle in May.

After sitting there for a few minutes, contemplating whether she had the artistic talent to attempt to transfigure a new arm for the poor stone maiden, she heard the castle doors open and close. Glancing over, she saw Dra-Malfoy head quickly along the castle wall, toward the surrounding forest. Moments later, Theodore Nott and a few other older Slytherin boys barged out the front door,  looking around. Draco had already reached the cover of the trees, but unfortunately, the group noticed Hermione. They spoke quietly amongst themselves for a moment, and sauntered over. Sighing irritably, Hermione pulled her wand from her sleeve and stood up.

“Threatening students, Mudblood?” Nott sneered, glancing at her wand. “Isn’t that against your precious little rules?”

"I’m not threatening anyone, but I’m not stupid, either.” Hermione sneered back. “And that’s ten points from Slytherin for using profanity. You know that word is forbidden.”

Nott scowled. “You’d better watch your back, you little mu-muggleborn bitch!” He hissed furiously.

“Now that sounded like a threat.” Hermione smirked. “That’s another ten points for profanity, and twenty more for threatening a fellow student. The Head Girl, no less.” She put her free hand on her hip, smirking saucily, but her insides were twisting in knots. She forced herself to keep her wand hand relaxed and ready to strike if necessary.

Nott’s face turned purple with rage, and the other boys gathered around him, all looming over her by several inches. He opened his mouth to say something, but a wonderfully familiar voice rang out over the courtyard.

“What is going on here?” McGonagall demanded sternly. “Is there a problem?” She asked, directing the question at Hermione.

“No, problem, Headmistress.” Hermione shook her head slightly. “Just educating these boys on what does and does not constitute a threat.” She barely suppressed a laugh when they all bristled at her use of the word ‘boys’. It was almost too easy to push their buttons.

“Oh, really?” McGonagall’s right eyebrow arched almost to her hairline before she pinned them with her steeliest glare. “Well, I hope you all understand the consequences of making threats around here. They will not be taken lightly.”

The boys all muttered affirmative comments under their breaths.

“Oh, I think they get it now, Headmistress.” Hermione allowed herself to smile slightly.

“Very good.” McGonagall nodded curtly, leveling a cool look at each boy in turn before turning back to Hermione. “Miss Granger, I need to speak with you in my office. Would you please come with me?”

“Yes, Headmistress.” Hermione nearly sighed with relief at the opportunity to get away from Nott and his friends without having to fight them or lose face by running away. When they reached the entry hall, she asked, “What did you need to speak to me about, Headmistress?”

“I didn’t, but it looked like you could use an excuse to get away.” McGonagall smiled teasingly.

“I did,” Hermione admitted, blushing. “I think they were after Draco again, but he hid in the forest, so they came after me.”

“Did they threaten you?” McGonagall asked, frowning.

“Well, Nott told me to watch my back.” Hermione said, reluctantly. “I took points away from him for saying...the M word, and then for threatening me, and that’s when you came out.”

“I see.” McGonagall nodded thoughtfully, pursing her lips. “I think we’ll have to keep a very close eye on Slytherin house. I don't wish to alienate them, but evidently the message that the war is over has yet to penetrate some of their thick skulls.” She sighed wearily, and started to turn away.

“Headmistress?” Hermione blurted. “You aren't making Draco go back to the Slytherin dormitory, are you?”

McGonagall turned back with a slight smile. “No dear, like I said earlier, he’s physically well enough to leave the infirmary, but I don't think he'd last a night in the Slytherin dorms. He’s been moved to his own suite. It’s right next to yours, as a matter of fact.. That corridor is full of concealed living quarters. Back in the day, most of the faculty used to live there...until they installed the tower bells.”

Hermione groaned. “About the bells...Draco used a spell that blocked them out completely the other day. Do you know what it is?”

“Figuring out how to block the bells is a sort of initiation for new Heads. It proves your resourcefulness. Perhaps you should ask Draco, dear.” McGonagall winked.

“He’s not speaking to me. He hates me, remember?” Hermione sighed.

“Oh, give him time, he’ll come around.” McGonagall smiled reassuringly. With that, she turned and walked away.

Hearing voices approaching from outside, and wanting to avoid another encounter with the Slytherin boys, Hermione rushed up the staircase to her next class; History of Magic. Luckily, this class was with Ravenclaw, and Professor Binns didn’t care if she sat in the otherwise empty classroom until the other students arrived. In fact, she was pretty sure he didn’t even notice she was there. She settled in and tried to read her textbook, but couldn’t pay attention. She kept picturing Draco sitting by himself at the Slytherin table, and then his frantic escape to the Forest. She hoped he was alright. At least she was pretty sure the other boys had followed her into the castle rather than looking for him.

Why was she spending so much time thinking about him anyway?!

For the second time that day, she was pulled from her thoughts by Luna. Or rather by Luna and Neville walking into the classroom, hand in hand.

“'Mione!” Luna squealed excitedly when she spotted her, holding up their joined hands, and smiling more happily than Hermione had ever seen her. Neville blushed slightly, but grinned at Hermione.

“I take it your ‘talk’ went well, then?” Hermione asked teasingly when they sat down with Luna beside her, and Neville on Luna’s other side.

“Very well,” Luna murmured dreamily, smiling up at Neville, who leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

“You should have told me last night that Lu likes me,” he scolded Hermione teasingly. “All that mysterious stuff about girls being all over me.” He chuckled. “I barely slept last night because I was trying to get up the courage to ask her out.” He smiled affectionately at Luna and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Luna’s smile widened, and she leaned over to snuggle up against his shoulder.

“Some Gryffindor you are, letting a Ravenclaw be braver than you.” Luna giggled before twisting her head to give him a smooch on the cheek.

“Awww!” Hermione sighed, smiling happily at both of them. “I’m so happy for both of you. I think you’re perfect for each other.”

“Thank you,” they replied in unison, then chuckled at each other.

“Oh gods, it’s already starting.” Hermione snickered. “You’re going to be one of those  couples. All lovey-dovey, and constantly finishing each other’s sentences.” She winked.

“We’ll try not to,” Neville replied solemnly, then broke into a smile again, putting his arms around Luna and pulling her closer.

Hermione rolled her eyes playfully. “Good luck with that.” She snickered. All three laughed, then quieted down as the rest of the class filed in. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and several other students grinned at the sight of Neville and Luna sitting practically on top of each other. If they'd had any professor other than Professor Binns, the couple probably would have lost house points already.

Ginny rushed over to sit on Hermione’s other side, then leaned out around her to give them a questioning look. Luna nodded happily at her best friend, and Ginny squealed, which actually made Professor Binn twitch and look up at his class for a moment.

“Congratulations you guys!” Ginny whispered loudly after the Professor turned to the chalkboard and began his usual boring lecture.

“I told you,” Harry said simply to Ron as he sat beside Ginny, who immediately reached for his hand. "Hello, you," he murmured, kissing her lightly before he began rooting through his bag with his free hand.

“Good for you, Neville.” Ron nodded to his friend, who smiled back. Hermione noticed a strange look in Ron’s eye when he turned to Luna. “I hope you’re very happy,” he murmured softly. Hermione bit her lip, instantly recognizing that tone, and wincing internally. Ron had been a bit of an arse recently, but no one deserved the kind of relationship luck he'd had lately.

“Thank you, Ronald.” Luna murmured back. “You know...I should introduce you to my cousin, Melody. She just moved here from the States. She’s in Hufflepuff. I think you two might hit it off.”

“Cousin?” Ron perked up ever so slightly. “You have a cousin?”

“She just said so, idiot,” Ginny whispered, but flashed her brother a knowing grin to smooth over the insult. “I met her this morning in Muggle Studies. I think Luna’s right; you might like her. All she wanted to talk about is Quidditch...”

“Reaaally?” Ron settled back in his seat with a thoughtful smile on his face. Before he could say anything else, the classroom door opened, and everyone turned to stare as Draco walked in. “What’s he doing here?” Ron muttered a little too loudly.

Ignoring the stares and whispers his arrival had caused, Draco walked over to the droning professor, holding out a piece of parchment. Professor Binns didn’t notice, so after a few seconds, Draco just let it fall on the desk amongst the dusty piles of books and parchment littering the surface. Finally turning to face the rest of the class, he shuffled over to the closest empty desk, and plopped down with a sigh.

After a lot more staring and whispering, the class eventually settled back down, most of them having fallen asleep due to Binns’ lecture. Hermione found herself repeatedly glancing over at the back of Draco’s head. He was sitting with his head resting on his hand, staring off into space, much like the majority of the class. Sighing, Hermione struggled to focus her attention on their ghostly professor, but instead found herself thinking about the previous day again, and McGonagall's insistence that Hermione should try to befriend Draco. She felt bad for him, but Merlin only knew how her friends would react if she actually became friends with Draco Malfoy. They’d think she lost it. That was if she could even get him to speak to her again, which she knew was unlikely.

Chewing her lip, Hermione glanced over at Ginny, who was leaning against Harry (his head was resting on top of hers, and he was snoring rather loudly), and watching Hermione curiously. Hermione blushed guiltily, and Ginny flicked her eyes toward Draco, then gave her a questioning look.

Hermione shrugged, almost laughing when Ginny’s eyes bugged out of her head. Ginny looked back over at Draco, and Hermione followed her gaze. She found Draco finally looking back at her. He gave her the tiniest of polite nods before facing forward again. Hermione looked back at Ginny, who was, to her surprise, grinning from ear to ear. So maybe she’d have at least one person on her side if she was successful in pursuing a friendship with Draco. She blinked, realizing she had made up her mind. She was really going to try to convince him to give her another chance. She just had to make him realize somehow that she’d only had his best interest at heart when she told McGonagall about his parents.


	7. Chapter 7

When the class finally ended, Hermione jumped to her feet, then deliberately put her things back in her satchel as slowly as possible when she noticed that Draco appeared to be in no hurry to leave. The others all had Divination next, so they didn’t question her when she told them to go on without her. She was struggling to fit her History of Magic textbook back into the bag when a hand on her arm made her jump. She hadn’t expected Draco to approach her, but when she looked up, he was standing beside her with an uncomfortable look on his face. “Draco, I’m really sorry about...”

“Don’t.” He cut her off, shaking his head. “I know why you did it. I’m not happy about it, but I quess I understand. You were just trying to help. Let’s just not talk about h-her.” He shrugged awkwardly, then took her book from her, easily slipping it inside her satchel. Picking up the bag, he slung it over his own shoulder, all while she stared dumbly at him. “You’ve got Runes next, too, right?” he asked expectantly.

“Y-yes.” Hermione nodded, feeling a small smile slowly spreading across her face as they left the classroom and began the long trek to the other side of the castle. Ignoring the curious (and in some cases angry) looks they were receiving, she asked, “Why were you in History of Magic with us? Not that I mind...” She smiled awkwardly when he glanced down at her.

“I had a long talk with McGonagall last night...about a lot of things." He gave her a meaningful look and she flushed, understanding now why he'd started talking to her again so quickly. "She’s made me a sort of un-official Gryffindor, at least scheduling-wise. I’ll be having all my classes with _you_ , since I wouldn’t take Divination again if you paid me.” He chuckled quietly when she smiled slightly at this. “I never thought you’d be remotely happy to be stuck with me all the time.” He leaned closer as they passed a group of fifth year Slytherins who looked just angry enough to possibly do some real damage, especially if they all attacked together. “She wants to keep me away from the other Slytherins as much as possible, for obvious reasons. She had to give me my own separate rooms, though, because the rest of the Gryffindors are probably not quite as forgiving as you seem to be.”

Hermione nodded knowingly. “She told me. You’re near Neville and me, right?”

“Mmmhmm.” He nodded, and flashed a brief hint of a smile. “I've suppose I've had worse neighbors.”

Hermione snorted softly. “I spent half of History of Magic trying to figure out how I was going to get you to even speak to me again...” She admitted after gathering her nerve. "I know it's nuts, but I'd like it if we could try to be friends."

“Are you sure you're not a Hufflepuff?" Draco asked quietly. His expression was unreadable.

Hermione huffed at him indignantly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Hufflepuff?!”

"It's not an insult," he muttered, sounding sincerely put out. "You're very loyal, and you go out of your way to help people, even if they're awful to you. You treat your friends like gold. If anyone else did what you did to me yesterday, I would never speak to them again, but I know that you did it with good intentions. I don’t trust anyone else here at Hogwarts, but for some reason, I feel like I can trust _you_. Okay, and maybe, to a lesser extent, McGonagall. I just couldn’t stay mad at you...believe me, I tried.” He bumped her with his hip, and then caught her by her elbow when she almost stumbled. “Gods, you’re tiny,” he teased. “Are you really old enough to be here?”

“I’m not _that_ short, prat. It’s not my fault everyone else around here is freakishly tall,” Hermione protested.

"Right. I'm sure that's it." He smirked and nodded skeptically. Just then, they arrived at the Ancient Runes classroom. Ignoring the stares they were receiving, they sat together near the front of the room.

After getting out her textbook, parchment, inkwell and quill, Hermione sneaked a quick glance around the room. She realized to her chagrin that even Professor Babbling, who had entered the room while she was busy with her things, was looking at them. The class consisted mostly of Ravenclaws, with a few Gryffindors from the year below her, one Hufflepuff and a pair of Slytherins. The Ravenclaws and Hufflepuff simply looked curious. The other Gryffindors were staring at Hermione with obvious confusion and a hint of suspicion. The Slytherins were glaring daggers at them both. Professor Babbling seemed surprised, but also mildly amused. She finally cleared her throat and called for the class’ attention as she began her lecture.

“This is going to be interesting,” Hermione muttered under her breath, not referring to the lesson. Draco just nodded absently as he began to take notes.

Hermione managed to take halfway decent notes despite the fact that Draco’s knee kept bumping hers beneath the double desk they were sharing. Because her nerves were on edge from the dirty looks the Slytherins kept giving her, she would jump every time this happened, causing her pulse to skyrocket for a few seconds. Just when she’d finally settle down, he’d do it again. A sideways glance showed a smug grin on his face, not unlike his usual expression when tormenting her in the past. This time, though, when he glanced back at her, his eyes had a mischievous twinkle in them.

"Stop it!" Hermione finally whispered, elbowing him none too gently.

He pouted slightly, but moved his leg away. The remainder of the class seemed to both crawl and fly by simultaneously. Hermione was startled when the professor finally dismissed them. She could barely remember what the lesson had been about, and her notes were next to useless. ‘ _Wonderful_...’

The entire class seemed to hover, watching to see what she and Draco would do. Almost by unspoken agreement, they both gathered their things very slowly, rearranging everything in their bags more than once. The other students finally broke down and left the room, whispering amongst themselves. The last to leave were the other two Slytherins. Hermione heard the words “Blood traitor,” “Get what’s coming...” and “Dirty little mudblood.” She glanced over at Professor Babbling to see how she would react, but unfortunately, the older woman appeared not to have heard as she magically cleared the chalkboard.

“It’s alright,” Draco murmured, patting her awkwardly on the arm. “Do you want to grab something to eat? I'm starving.” He reached out and took her bag again, like he’d been doing so for years. “Maybe we could eat by the lake or something?”

Hermione stared up at him, shocked at his invitation. “Are you sure?”

“Look...I don’t have my own table.” He sighed. “And I’m not sitting with the Gryffindor’s either. If you don’t join me, I’ll be all alone. Don’t you think I’d be safer with the Head Girl and the Heroine of Gryffindor?” He winked teasingly but she could tell he was at least partially serious. He was afraid to eat alone, and she couldn’t really blame him. “Don’t make me have to eat alone in my room...” he added, pouting exaggeratedly.

“Fine,” she agreed hesitantly. “But I’m not a heroine. I didn’t do any more in the war than anyone else. Less, really. Molly Weasley killed...uh...” She trailed off, remembering that Bellatrix was his aunt.

“Right. Remind me to send her a nice thank you card.” Draco nodded. “I definitely owe her one for that.” Tugging on her arm, he led her to the fourth floor to drop off their bags. Hermione said nothing when he left his bag in her sitting room despite the fact that his room was right next door.

“Why don’t I have Tibby bring us a picinic basket instead of grabbing food from the Hall? That way maybe Nott and his buddies won’t see us. I’d rather avoid another confrontation with them just now, wouldn’t you?”

“Good idea,” Draco nodded agreeably. He waited patiently while she wrote her request on the special parchment. When a wicker basket brimming with goodies appeared, he reached past her and picked it up. “Have I ever told you I think you’re brilliant?” he asked with a grin.

“No, but you can tell me over dinner.” Hermione giggled. After making sure the door was locked behind them, the pair walked downstairs and out the front doors. They waited a moment to be sure no one was following, then walked down to the lake and found a tree with a nice, flat grassy area underneath. Spreading out their cloaks, they sat down with the basket between them. Hermione pulled back the cover and chuckled. “Roast beef again?”

“They must have had a lot left over from the feast.” Draco shrugged, grabbing a sandwich and taking a large bite.

“I think Tibby is sucking up to you,” Hermione teased.

“Why would she suck up to _me_? _You’re_ the Head Girl.” He argued when he was done chewing.

“I think she thinks you’re cute.” Hermione grinned.

"Maybe _you_ think I’m cute.” He grinned back. “I think you’re projecting your feelings onto a poor, innocent house elf.”

“Projecting my feelings? What do you know about psychology?” Hermione gawked at him, too astonished by his knowledge of such a muggle concept to laugh at his ridiculous accusation.

“Just because my parents hate muggles doesn’t mean I never learned anything about them, you know.” Draco frowned slightly. “Let’s change the subject," he requested uncomfortably.

“Okay,” Hermione agreed gladly, reaching for a sandwich and taking a big bite before realizing he was watching her with an amused look on his face. “What? Do I have something on my face?” she asked, touching her bottom lip.

“No, sorry.” He shook his head. “It’s just nice to see a girl who actually eats. Slytherin girls only eat when there are no guys around.” Rolling his eyes, he asked. “So, um, what’s a dentist? That's what your parents are, right?” he added, frowning thoughtfully.

Hermione blinked, then realized by his expression that he really wanted to know. She proceeded to try to explain what her parents did for a living. "Right. Well, they’re doctors...er...healers...who specialize in taking care of people's mouths. They fill cavities...um...holes in people's teeth, caused by decay...they pull bad teeth, they fix broken teeth. More specialized healers called orthodontists use braces...little metal wires they glue to the teeth...to help straighten them. And oral surgeons perform root canals and such. That's an operation that kills the nerve. It's done to stop pain in a really bad tooth, so they can avoid pulling it."

By the time she stopped rambling, Draco was staring at her with a mix of awe and horror. "And muggles go to these dentist people willingly?" She nodded. He reached for a chocolate cupcake, mumbling, “Thank Merlin for tooth-cleaning spells...” then took a huge bite, leaving a smear of frosting on his upper lip.

Hermione burst out laughing. Handing him a napkin, she said, "You look like Charlie Chaplin!"

Of course, he just looked at her blankly.

"Do you know what a movie is?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Er...sort of like a play, but...flat? Like one of our photographs?" he answered uncertainly.

"Close enough. Muggles used to call movies, 'moving pictures,'" Hermione explained. "But nowadays their movies have sound, and the picture is a lot clearer." He still looked completely confused, and Hermione smiled sympathetically. "Anyway, back before they figured out how to incorporate sound, there was an actor called Charlie Chaplin. He was very, very famous, and he had this funny little black mustache..." she trailed off, gesturing at the frosting, which was still on his lip. "If you wore a bowler hat, you'd look just like him. Well...if he was blond...."

Draco stared at her thoughtfully, then wiped the frosting from his lip. "I think I'd like to see one of these movie things some day. How on earth do muggles fit a whole play, including sound, in one picture?"

"It's a lot more complicated than that, actually." Hermione chuckled. A thought occurred to her, and she bit her lip before asking, "Would you like to go see one together sometime? I could take you to the cinema near my parents' house some afternoon. Maybe this weekend...it’s Neville’s turn to chaperone." Seventh year students were allowed to go to Hogsmeade every weekend, though either Hermione or Neville had to stay 'on call' in case they were needed by the younger prefects. Those students who were of age were allowed to go beyond Hogsmeade, as long as they told their Head of House where they were going, and returned to the castle by seven o'clock.

"A muggle cinema?" Draco asked uncertainly.

"Yes," Hermione said. "I don’t believe there's another kind."

"You want me to go with you? To your hometown?" He asked incredulously.

"Look, you don’t have to," Hermione muttered defensively. "You said you wanted to see a movie, so I thought-"

"I'd like that," he announced abruptly. "It does sound interesting. What are the plays...er...movies about?"

"I'll have to check the newspaper before we go." Hermione shrugged. "They change all the time, but the cinema advertises what films are currently playing in the paper each week," she explained when he looked a bit confused again. “There are usually at least a half dozen or so different ones at any given time. The cinema near my house is a bit on the small side,” she added apologetically. “Larger cities usually have a bigger selection.”

"That’s incredible," he murmured, completely serious. "I had no idea there was such a variety to choose from."

"You should watch television, sometime," Hermione mumbled amusedly. He perked up, and she laughed. "Maybe if you behave I'll take you by my parents' place and show you ours," she promised, rolling her eyes slightly.

"Taking me home to meet the parents, Granger?" He grinned mischievously. "I knew you thought I was cute," he said, preening playfully, and batting his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

This time, Hermione laughed so hard she cried. Draco just watched her with an amused smirk until she got herself under control. "As if. Prat," she finally wheezed, clutching her aching sides.

"I try." He chuckled. Then he glanced behind her, and his face fell. "Picnic's over, Granger," he muttered, quickly rising to his feet.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is a bit of a roller coaster. Sorry.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! I'm still alive. Despite what I said when I last posted, I have NOT just been reading a book this whole time. I ended up moving across country on rather short notice, and didn't have a pc again until recently. Then my muse was a bit stubborn about coming out to play again until now. Hopefully she's back to being as cooperative as she ever was (which isn't saying much) and I'll actually finish this thing someday.

Hermione stood up and slowly turned around, pulling her wand from her sleeve as she pivoted on her right heel. "We’re buggered!" she muttered under her breath.

"Understatement..." Draco murmured, grabbing her left wrist and trying to push her behind him as Nott, Goyle, and at least a dozen other sixth and seventh year Slytherins stalked toward them across the damp grass.

"Lemme go!" Hermione whispered, shaking her wrist free and shoving her hand in her skirt pocket. Not finding what she was looking for, she swapped her wand to the other hand and checked her right pocket. Her fingertips brushed against cold metal and she smirked as she sent out a quick message...{ _Help! By the lake! Bring McGonagall! Bring everyone_!}

That managed, she quickly moved her wand back to her dominant hand and tried to push Draco behind her. He stubbornly refused, trying again to move in front of her. "Stop being ridiculous!" Hermione hissed. "Have you ever been in a real fight in your life?" It was a low blow, she knew, but she couldn’t hold the other Slytherins at bay until reinforcements arrived if she had to worry about him getting in the way.

Draco grunted irritably, but more importantly, he stopped trying to get in front of her. Against Hermione's better judgement, she decided to compromise. When the approaching mob reached them, they met them side by side.

"Well, well, well. Isn't this sweet?" Nott sneered. "You're really embracing the whole blood traitor thing, aren’t you, Malfoy?"

"Shove off, Theo," Draco growled. "The war is over!"

"The war will never be over as long as filth like her is allowed to walk around like she owns the place!" Nott gestured disgustedly at Hermione.

Draco raised his wand at this, but Hermione pushed his arm down. "Do not cast the first hex!" she hissed between her teeth.

He nodded stiffly, but kept his wand ready.

"Taking orders from the mudblood?" Goyle asked incredulously. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"Greg...come on, mate. Don't do this. You’re my best friend. I saved your life!" Draco said coaxingly. Goyle actually looked hesitant for a moment. "We've got cupcakes!" Draco pointed at the basket in front of them.

Hermione nearly choked on her tongue when the huge Slytherin shrugged apologetically at Nott and moved to stand beside Draco. "Did that..." she mumbled, but nearly choked again because her mouth and throat had completely dried up. Clearing her throat, she tried again. "Did that really just happen?!"

Adrian Pucey snorted disgustedly. Turning to Nott, he muttered, "Man, I told you we shoulda brought snacks!"

Draco cackled derisively, and Hermione nearly bit through her bottom lip trying to suppress her own laughter. The whole thing was just so surreal.

Unfortunately, Nott and the others weren't so amused. " _Crucio_!" Nott snarled, slashing his wand toward Draco, who barely managed to jump out of the way. He landed hard on his right side and grunted painfully. Hermione heard something crack.

Livid over the fact that Nott had just re-broken the ribs that she’d gone to so much effort to heal, she lashed out at him with the most painful stinging hex she knew.

He dodged her spell, and tried to hit her with a ' _Crucio_.' To her shock, Goyle saved her with a remarkably strong ' _Protego_ ,' allowing her time to strike again with a stunning spell that lifted Nott off his feet and slammed him into the trunk of the nearby tree. He slumped to the ground, unconscious.

"Thanks!" She nodded to Goyle.

He actually smiled, then yelled, "Get down!" They both hit the ground just before a flash of green light flew past their heads.

"Holy shit. They just cast ' _Avada_?'" Hermione muttered as they crouched behind a large root. Curses and hexes were now pounding into the root and the ground around them. She could feel blood trickling from a throbbing wound on her forehead, and she was having trouble focusing. Draco was lying on his stomach a few feet away, shielded only by the picnic basket. Hermione couldn't tell if he was breathing. "Where the hell is Neville?"

Just then, a bolt of red light slammed into the picnic basket, sending bits of wicker and food particles flying everywhere in a six foot range. A bit of frosting landed on Goyle's nose. Looking at it cross-eyed, he growled, "Did they just kill the cupcakes?"

Hermione, distracted by her increasing dizziness and an oncoming migraine (and the fact that Draco still wasn’t moving), absently mumbled, "Mmmhmmm..."

She was trying to creep close enough to pull Draco to better cover when she heard a thunderous bellow, followed by a few thumps and finally a shrill scream. She looked up just in time to see Goyle tackle Adrian Pucey to the ground, snarling like an enraged Hippogriff. Three other Slytherins quickly subdued their huge housemate, but Pucey was clearly going to spend time in the infirmary for his pastry destruction.

Draco moaned just then, opening his eyes and clutching at his ribs. "Stay down!" Hermione hissed, finally thinking to cast a shield spell over him.

Taking in their situation, she realized there was no way out. The Slytherins were between them and the castle, and were beginning to fan out to surround them. She was dizzy, and her thoughts were becoming more muddled by the second. Draco was badly injured, and Goyle was now incapacitated. When she risked a quick peek over the root, a flurry of spells forced her back down immediately. If only they could apparate...but they were just inside the wards.

Yeah...they were definitely buggered.

Suddenly, she became aware of a low rumbling sound. The Slytherins slowly seemed to notice it as well, and she heard a few of them murmuring worriedly amongst themselves. The rain of hexes gradually trickled to a stop.

Risking another peek, Hermione grinned weakly at the sight of her co-head marching down across the lawn with what appeared to be all of Ravenclaw trailing behind him. Luna was at his side, her chin held high and an extremely rare expression of annoyance on her face.

" _WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE_?" Neville yelled, glaring daggers at the cowering Slytherins. A few of them shook their heads as if to deny anything untoward had happened. "I'm enjoying a nice evening with my girlfriend when I get a frantic call for help from my co-head, and you're trying to tell me nothing happened?" Neville said in a calm, cold voice.

"Um..." someone mumbled.

" _WHERE'S ‘MIONE_?!" Neville bellowed. One of the Slytherin girls actually started to cry.

Hermione shook herself out of her stupor enough to raise her hand above the root. "Here..." she moaned before her arm fell limply back to her side.  

She heard footsteps approaching, and then Luna’s voice murmured, "Oh dear!" The blonde crouched beside her and conjured a cold cloth, pressing it gently to her forehead.

"Thanks, Lu," Hermione croaked. Her head hurt so badly she could no longer keep her eyes open.

Someone must have called for McGonagall, because Hermione heard the Headmistress's shrill voice all but scream, "You are all expelled! Don't move from this spot! I'll be contacting the Aurors office about this! Now go to the Great Hall immediately!" Her contradictory orders sparked a few confused murmurs among the crowd, but most of the Slytherins began to wander toward the Great Hall.

"U-us, too?" Padma Patil asked, sounding terrified. Hermione could definitely sympathize.

McGonagall snorted indelicately. "No, of course not, Miss Patil. Honestly, how did you get into Ravenclaw, girl?"

Hermione snickered faintly, then promptly passed out.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short...I wrote it back before I moved and I can't even recall why I split things up like this. I have a massive cold though, so I don't have the energy to try to fix it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, but at least it wasn't months this time! I was busy with Christmas and all that...

Hermione woke with a groan. Someone seemed to be playing a bass drum nearby, and her head was throbbing with the beat. "Stop that!" She muttered irritably, not yet ready to try opening her eyes.

"Stop what?" Harry’s voice bellowed, making her wince.

"Ow, stop yelling!" Hermione hissed, clamping her hands over her ears.

"I'm not yelling, 'Mione," Harry shouted a bit more quietly.

"She has a slight concussion," Madame Pomfrey explained at a volume that could quite possibly shatter glass.

"Slight? This is slight?!" Hermione whimpered, holding her head in her hands. "Seriously...could you both  _ please _ keep it down?" She was whining now, but she couldn't care less.

"Here, drink this. It'll help," Madame Pomfrey urged in a whisper. 

Hermione reluctantly pried her eyes open, squinting against the harsh lighting in the infirmary. Once the resulting dizziness settled a bit, she let Harry help her to a seated position so she could drink the slightly bitter pink potion the nurse held to her lips.

After a few moments, the drum finally faded away completely, and she let out a sigh of relief. "What happened?" she asked, gingerly touching her forehead. She frowned when she found a bandage wrapped around her head. “Can’t you just heal me?”

"You don't remember what happened?" Madame Pomfrey asked worriedly, ignoring her second question.

Hermione thought for a moment, and had a vague memory of blurry faces, flashes of light, and- "Nott. Nott...attacked us!" She winced as her own voice pierced her throbbing head, setting the drum off again for a few seconds. She waited for it to settle back down, then muttered, "Nott and a bunch of Slytherins cornered us by the lake. Goyle switched sides and helped us, but they still had us completely outnumbered...." She blinked as more details came back to her. Looking around anxiously, she asked, "Where's Draco? I think he broke his ribs again..."

"He's fine, dear," Madame Pomfrey interjected gently, pointing at the bed to Hermione's left. Draco was lying motionless, either asleep or unconscious. "I had to give him a calming draught before we could move him. He was going to puncture a lung the way he was carrying on after you lost consciousness."

"Oh..." Hermione stared at Draco for several seconds, trying to imagine him getting that upset over her. She finally looked back at Madame Pomfrey, who for some reason had a slightly amused expression. "And Goyle?" Hermione asked curiously.

Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Yeah...you might want to tell Professor McGonagall that he was on your side. She sort of expelled him with the others. He's on his way to Azkaban as we speak. They all are."

Hermione struggled to sit back up, trying to push aside the blankets covering her legs. "I need to find McGonagall!"

Madame Pomfrey gently pushed her back down. "I'll send for her. You need to rest. You were hit directly in the head with a rather nasty curse, and I can’t heal your concussion with magic. We’ll have to let it heal naturally, which could take a few days."

Hermione lacked the strength to resist, so she collapsed against her pillows, letting out her breath in a a huff. "Fine. But please let the authorities know about Goyle as soon as possible. He saved my life. Someone actually cast the killing curse...if he hadn't warned me..." She shuddered, remembering how closely the curse had passed overhead.

"I'll go tell Professor McGonagall," Harry offered, kissing her forehead before leaving the infirmary.

After he left, Hermione turned back to Madame Pomfrey and reluctantly asked, "What about Nott? I...I smashed him into a tree pretty hard..."

"He'll live, unfortunately. The healers at Azkaban are fairly sure he might even walk again someday." Madame Pomfrey replied. "Not that it'll do him much good. He and the Pucey boy both cast unforgivables. They won't be seeing the outside of Azkaban prison again for a very long time, if ever."

"Pucey..." Hermione mused. "I didn't see who cast the ' _ Avada _ '..."

"He confessed soon after you lost consciousness," Madame Pomfrey explained. "Minerva told him he might avoid the Dementors kiss if he admitted to it willingly."

"But there are no more Dementors at Azkaban," Hermione pointed out. "They were all exiled to Siberia..."

"The boy's a Slytherin, not a Ravenclaw." Madame Pomfrey shrugged, smiling smugly.

Hermione suddenly remembered who had come to her rescue. "Two hundred points to Ravenclaw!" she exclaimed quietly, wary of her aching head.

"Mister Longbottom already gave them five hundred points." Madame Pomfrey  chuckled.

"Well...they deserve every one. Bravery isn't necessarily in their nature." Hermione shrugged carelessly.

"I'm not sure fifteen versus ten constitutes bravery," Madame Pomfrey mumbled. "Two of the ten were already down...

"Were there really only fifteen Ravenclaws there? I thought the whole house came to the rescue!" Hermione exclaimed, then winced and rubbed her head.

"Shhhhh!" Madame Pomfrey said, gesturing at Draco. 

"Sorry!" Hermione whispered guiltily.

It was too late. Draco let out a low moan, then slowly opened his eyes. After staring blankly at the ceiling for a few seconds, he jolted upright and began looking around frantically.

"Easy, Mr. Malfoy!" Madame Pomfrey exclaimed, rushing to his side. "You're alright now. You're safe. It's over."

"Granger? Goyle?" He asked hoarsely, clutching his right side with his left hand.

"They're both fine.” Madame Pomfrey smiled warmly at him and pointed at Hermione. "They're both fine. Miss Granger will make a full recovery and Mr. Goyle was completely unharmed."

"What did they do to you?" Draco asked Hermione, glancing pointedly at her head.

"Bad headache," she answered casually, deliberately downplaying her injury for fear he would injure himself further if he got too upset.

"I believe she was hit in the head by a piece of debris from that poor tree," Madame Pomfrey lied, clearly thinking the same thing. "It will likely never be the same. Pomona and Mr. Longbottom are working on it as we speak."

Hermione winced guiltily at this news, and Draco rolled his eyes at her. Apparently some things never changed.

Before he could tease her openly for her guilt over damage  _ someone else _ had caused to a  _ tree _ , the doors to the infirmary flew open. Professor McGonagall swept through them with Harry and a dark haired, middle aged man in Auror robes hurrying along in her wake. "Oh good! You're both awake." She smiled warmly at Hermione and then a bit anxiously at Draco. "This is Auror Savage. He's heading the investigation into the recent incidents with Slytherin House. I understand there's been a misunderstanding regarding Mr Goyle’s involvement?"

"Yes," Hermione and Draco replied in unison. 

"He was going to help us," Draco said.

"He  _ did _ help us," Hermione corrected. "After Nott knocked Draco out, Goyle protected me from a cruciatus curse and the killing curse, and he knocked out Adrian Pucey. Then the other Slytherins ganged up and managed to take him down."

Everyone stared at her in blatant disbelief, even Draco. "Gregory Goyle did all that?" Professor McGonagall mumbled finally, raising an eyebrow.

"Gregory Goyle did all of that." Hermione nodded in confirmation, chuckling at their rather understandable reactions.

"Alright, then," Auror Savage mumbled, shaking his head bemusedly. "I'll send word that he should be released. We’re still administering veritaserum to try to determine which students actually cast curses and which ones didn't. I don't suppose you two could name the active participants in the attack?" He trailed off with a hopeful look.

"I only saw Nott..." Draco shrugged sheepishly. "He tried to  _ 'crucio _ ' me, and I fell down in the process of avoiding it...broke my ribs again. I must’ve passed out from the pain," he admitted sheepishly.

"He tried to ' _ crucio _ ' me, too," Hermione chimed in. "I didn't see who cast the ' _ avada _ .' They started blasting us with curses, and I got hit in the head at some point." She pointed meekly at her bandage. "Everything's kind of fuzzy after that. I think Adrian Pucey killed the cupcakes." She giggled, remembering Goyle's reaction to the exploding treats.

"He did what?" Auror Savage asked, cocking his head to the side and staring at her like she'd grown a second head.

"Never mind." Hermione rubbed her head gingerly.

"For the most part, it seems the same students were involved in this evening’s attack as those that assaulted Mr Malfoy on the train the other day." McGonagall spoke up. "I had hoped things would settle down, but obviously things are escalating...first Mr. Zabini used the ‘ _ Imperius, _ ’ now the others are trying the ‘ _ Cruciatus _ ’ and the killing curse!" the headmistress’s voice rose in alarm, and Hermione winced as her head began to ache again.

"Yes," Auror Savage said. "I think the time for diplomacy and second chances has definitely passed. We can't show lenience for this kind of behaviour, no matter who they're targeting. Now others are getting caught in the crossfire." He nodded slightly toward Hermione.

There was a long, awkward silence following his statement, and Hermione felt her blood beginning to boil at his insinuation that it didn't really matter that the Slytherins were after Draco, only that someone “important” had gotten hurt.

"Excuse me?" Harry's angry voice shocked her into silence just as she was about to read the older wizard the riot act. "Draco doesn't deserve this shite, and he certainly doesn't deserve your attitude. He saved my life at Malfoy Manor, and his mum saved my life during the last battle. I testified for both of them, and they were cleared of all charges. That's why the other Slytherins are targeting him...because they feel he and his mum betrayed them as well as Voldemort. That's hardly fair."

Auror Savage rolled his eyes. Glancing briefly at Professor McGonagall, he mumbled, "Well, his mum's hardly an innocent flower, is she?"

McGonagall's eyes widened, and she shook her head warningly.

Harry, looking completely baffled, growled, "What?"

Draco's eyes went blank. "I love my mother," he mumbled flatly as he fisted his blankets in both hands.

"It's okay, Draco," Hermione murmured soothingly, frowning at the auror.

"How can you love her after what she did to you, kid?" Auror Savage asked incredulously. "That bitch had it coming."

"What?!" Harry asked again, looking stunned. Hermione winced, knowing that her friend was rather fond of Mrs. Malfoy, but that would change as soon as he found out what the woman was really like.

Draco exploded. "No! No! You can't! I love her. They'll hurt her! You can't let them hurt her!" His eyes were still eerily blank, but he started trying to climb out of bed, shaking all over. 

Madame Pomfrey struggled to push him back down. "Mr. Potter...please fetch the blue potion bottle from my desk!" she requested urgently. Harry rushed to obey.

"Auror Savage, I warned you not to speak about all that in front of Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonagall scolded, her face pinched with anger.

"He's going to find out eventually, Headmistress." The auror shrugged unrepentantly.

"Find out what?!" Draco demanded, trying to resist as Madame Pomfrey attempted to pour the potion Harry brought to her down his throat. "What have you done to my mother?"

McGonagall once again shook her head at Auror Savage, but he ignored her, smugly announcing, "She's in Azkaban, awaiting trial for charges of severe child abuse and neglect, and also allowing others to torture and sexually abuse her child."

Hermione heard Draco whimper, and felt all of the blood drain from her own face at hearing it all spoken of aloud. Harry stared at the older wizard in horror, his mouth hanging open slightly. “He...what?” He gaped back and forth between the triumphant looking auror, and Draco, who seemed to have gone into shock.

Madame Pomfrey took the opportunity to pour the potion in her hand into Draco’s mouth. His eyelids began to flutter almost immediately, and she gently lowered him to the mattress. Turning to Auror Savage, she put her hands on her hips and hissed, "You! Out of my infirmary! Now! And don’t you dare come back here!"

He blinked, obviously startled by her rage. "But I still have questions...”

“If you need more information from my patients, you send someone with some tact!” the nurse snarled.

Auror Savage glared at her, but drew himself up to his full height and muttered, “Fine, I’ll send my partner to question him for his mother’s trial...”

"That's not going to be possible,” Madam Pomfrey interjected, shaking her head. “She forced him to take a blood oath. He can’t answer your questions. We had to force the memories out of him," she explained cooly. “We can provide you with a copy of the memories...”

"Second hand memories are inadmissible," Auror Savage interrupted, making a dismissive gesture. "He will have to testify-"

"That's not true and you know it. There is precedent for exceptions made when the victim was unable to testify." Professor McGonagall interrupted haughtily. "Poppy can attest to the fact that Mr Malfoy is under a powerful enchantment that renders him physically incapable of saying anything negative about his mother. As you’ve seen, he becomes extremely distraught if others speak badly of her. He won't be able to attend her trial without experiencing severe distress, let alone testify against her."

"I'll need his memories then," Auror Savage muttered grumpily after thinking for a moment. "Straight from _him_ ," he added quickly when Hermione opened her mouth to offer up her memory of Draco’s.

Madame Pomfrey sighed heavily. "It will be difficult to extract the memories in question without further traumatizing the boy, but I will do my best to get them for you before the trial."

"Can't you just take them while he's asleep?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"It'll take a while to locate the correct memories without his conscious mind's assistance. Even if he were fighting me, that would help indicate where the memories are hidden. Finding them without his conscious guidance or resistance will take hours...thus the difficulty. It's much harder in general to extract another person’s memories for pensieve viewing than it is one's own." The nurse huffed impatiently, turning to the auror. "It would make a great deal more sense to let Miss Granger provide her memory of what he allowed her to access. She's trustworty."

Auror Savage frowned, then sighed and gave a submissive sort of shrug. "Let me talk to Robards. I'll get back to you. Either way, we'll need them by Tuesday."

"That soon?" Hermione gasped.

"All these new regulations since the war. Limits to how long a prisoner can be held before being given a trial. Bloody Ministry's gone soft," he muttered disgustedly. "Anyway, I should be going." He shook his head slightly and turned to leave.

"You'll have Mr Goyle returned promptly, yes?" Professor McGonagall called after him airily.

His shoulders slumped slightly. "Yes, Headmistress," he replied without looking back. He mumbled something under his breath, but McGonagall didn't call him on it.

The moment the door closed behind him, Harry looked around angrily and asked, "I don't suppose anyone will tell me what the hell  _ that _ was all about?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> About magical healing: As far as this story is concerned, any injury/scar caused directly by a curse/hex/jinx (or cursed object) as well as any illness (other than poisoning) caused by the effects of dark magic can't be completely cured with healing spells or potions. Some symptoms may be alleviated, but not the injury/illness itself. Aside from wanting Hermione to spend some time in the infirmary, I also need this "rule" to be the case later on in the story, or it'll take out a lot of drama. I vaguely remember reading something about that being why Mad-Eye's eye and leg couldn't be healed, but I can't find it now, so I'm not saying this is canon, just that it's how things work in this particular story. It will be more obvious why I need this to be the case later on if it's not already. ;-) 
> 
> And I don't really care if Dementors were exiled or not. They should have been, so...


	10. Chapter 10

The next day, Madam Pomfrey refused to release either Draco or Hermione from the infirmary, telling Draco that his ribs needed to heal completely before she let him out of her sight again. Hermione's head still hurt badly enough that she didn't even question the nurse's orders.    
  
The matron did finally relent and allow them visitors in the afternoon, after Hermione's persistent headache finally began to fade. The first person to appear, immediately after lunch, was Harry. He barged in, knocking over a tray of healing implements, and earning a scathing look from Madam Pomfrey.   
  
"Don't force me to revoke your visitor privileges, Mr. Potter," she said sternly. "I was willing to make an exception for you last night because of your close relationship with Miss Granger, but don't think that means you can run around here wreaking havoc."   
  
"Sorry, Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied meekly, hanging his head.   
  
He must have displayed sufficient remorse, because the matron just waved him past and began clearing away the mess he'd made.   
  
"Hi guys," he greeted them with a tired smile. "You look better." He nodded to Draco, then turned to Hermione and frowned. "You...not so much."   
  
Draco snorted. "And everyone says  _ I'm _ mean to you," he told Hermione in a loud aside.   
  
"You're really pale, 'Mione," Harry went on, ignoring him. "Are you alright?"   
  
"My head still aches a little is all," Hermione murmured. It had started throbbing again when he made his noisy entrance, but she didn't want to make him feel bad.   
  
"She's got a concussion, and it doesn’t help when someone's banging around here like a herd of hippogriffs," Draco muttered, obviously having no such compulsions.   
  
"Sorry, I just wanted to show you...well...show Hermione...uh..." Harry trailed off awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. He couldn’t look more guilty if he tried.   
  
Hermione knew instantly that whatever was bothering Harry, it involved Draco, and probably his parents. "Maybe you should wait until later, Harry?" she suggested quietly.   
  
"Yeah, I don't really want to see your di-oof!" Draco grunted when Hermione hit him in the face with one of her pillows. "Well, I don't!" He chuckled as he gently tossed it back on her bed. "Why are you whipping it out for Granger anyway? Aren't you dating the Weaslette?"    
  
"I am, but she has Muggle Studies right now. She's said she’d come by later." Harry answered, casually ignoring Draco’s attempts to get a rise out of him. "And that’s  _ not  _ what I was talking about."   
  
"Whatever. I don't care. Don't let me stop you," Draco muttered harshly. “Like anything you do interests me, anyway.”   
  
"Please don't fight," Hermione murmured, giving him a pleading look.   
  
They'd been getting along fine all morning, chatting (between pain potion induced naps) about muggle technology, which seemed to fascinate him, and wizard literature, which fascinated  _ her _ . She hated that he seemed to be reverting to his old, surly self now that Harry was there.   
  
"Sorry. Force of habit," he mumbled, looking away with a hangdog expression.   
  
Harry shot Hermione an apologetic look, then cleared his throat. "So..." He trailed off awkwardly. “About that thing I needed to show you...” he shifted his weight uncomfortably, blatantly stalling.   
  
Before he could get around to telling her what it was, the infirmary doors opened again, revealing Neville, Ron, Luna, and another blonde girl, who Hermione didn’t know. She guessed based on the resemblance between the two girls that the stranger must be Luna’s cousin. Neville held up a large pot of daisies, which he placed on the night table between Hermione and Draco. "Hey, guys. You’re looking..." he trailed off abruptly when he glanced at Hermione.    
  
Draco burst out laughing, and even Harry chuckled a bit.   
  
"Honestly, I can't look  _ that _ bad!" Hermione grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest.   
  
"You're just...rather gray," Luna murmured sweetly. "It's not normal."   
  
"If anyone knows ‘not normal,’ it's you, Lu," the other blonde chuckled. "Are you going to introduce me to your pasty friend and the supermodel?" She leered blatantly at Draco as she slowly checked him out.   
  
Ron grunted irritably, and Hermione tended to agree with him for once.    
  
"Oh, this is Draco and Hermione," Luna murmured casually. "He always looks that pale. I used to think he was a vampire, but I've seen him in sunlight since then. And Hermione  _ is _ quite lovely, isn’t she? She’s normally even lovelier, when she's more...pinkish. Oh, and this is my rude American cousin Melody." She finished absently.

  
Hermione could have kissed her. Harry and Ron burst out laughing, while Neville just shook his head amusedly.   
  
"She's right." Draco chuckled, causing the other three boys to stare at him. "What? I'm pale as fuck, and Granger's a bit of a looker, especially now that she's gotten that hair under control."   
  
Harry frowned thoughtfully, then turned to Neville. "I thought it was ‘Mione that got hit in the head?"   
  
"Oh, shut up, Harry," Hermione grumbled.   
  
"You'd better watch it, Malfoy," Neville said cheerfully. "Keep it up, and you might not be the next guy to get slapped around here. In fact..." He smirked and reached over to smack Harry lightly on the back of the head.   
  
"Hey! What was that for?" Harry protested, rubbing his head.   
  
"You just implied Malfoy was crazy to think 'Mione's nice looking," Neville explained like he was talking to a five year old. "Even  _ I  _ know better than to say something like that."   
  
"Well, Malfoy _ is _ acting weird," Ron muttered. "S'not right at all."   
  
"I'm sitting right here..." Draco said pointedly.    
  
"So?" Ron asked, rather nastily. "You've been acting really creepy since school started up again, and you nearly got 'Mione killed. Just because she's taking pity and being nice to you doesn’t mean we’re all falling for...for...whatever you’re up to."   
  
Draco's face flushed at Ron’s words, and the temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees. Hermione glared at her former boyfriend. "Ron, aren’t you supposed to be in muggle studies?"   
  
"Yeah, but who cares about that crap?" Ron asked indifferently.   
  
Neville slapped his palm against his forehead, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. It was my idea to skip it.  _ Some _ of us were sincerely worried about you after yesterday. Apparently, Ron’s just a moron."   
  
"Everyone keeps saying that!" Ron grumbled. "What did I do? I'm just saying...he's a lying git and she's probably setting herself up for...for something. She’s always had bad judgment when it comes to guys. I mean...Krum?"   
  
"For one thing,  _ you _ had a bigger crush on Krum than I ever did!" Hermione snapped. "And for another, my worst dating mistake was going out with  _ you _ !"   
  
"And she's not dating Malfoy," Harry pointed out calmly.   
  
"Exactly!" Hermione pointed at him for emphasis.    
  
"Right," Ron muttered sarcastically. "Cuz you always have picnics by the lake with your 'friends.'" He made air quotes around the last word, snorting derisively.   
  
"Um...but she does, Ron." Luna chimed in. "I've eaten by the lake with her on several occasions. And I've seen her there with you, Harry, and Ginny.  _ I've _ eaten there with  _ you _ . People eat there all the time."   
  
"Thank you!" Hermione exclaimed triumphantly. "Draco and I are friends." She glanced at the blond for confirmation, and he smiled and nodded, though he looked a little uncomfortable. Turning back to Ron, she said, "I'm not asking you to make friends with him too. I know that you blame him for Bill, and I understand why he's not your favorite person. I'm just asking you to trust me to look out for myself. There's more to what’s going on than you know..."   
  
"Right. So you forgive him for being a complete arse over the years because he's his mummy and daddy's little whipping boy, and they've driven him mental?" Ron scoffed loudly.   
  
Everyone went very still. Even Ron seemed to realize he'd gone too far, and clamped his mouth shut. Hermione slowly turned to Harry...the only other person in the room besides herself who was aware of Draco's secret. "Tell me you didn’t..."   
  
Harry’s eyes widened and he shook his head vigorously. "I tried to warn you. It wasn't me. The Ministry...probably Savage..." He pulled a folded copy of the Prophet out of his bag and reluctantly held it out to her. "He must have leaked the story."   
  
Hermione glanced worriedly at Draco. He was staring blankly at Ron, his eyes seeming far too large for his face. Swallowing thickly, she turned back to the paper in her hands.   
  
The headlines jumped out at her jarringly: " **_Malfoy Matriarch jailed for severe child abuse_ ** !" " **_Did Lucius Malfoy let You-know-who molest the Malfoy heir?!_ ** " (Beneath this was a picture of the horribly awkward embrace Voldemort had given Draco during the last battle. Hermione shuddered sympathetically when the photo version of Draco grimaced visibly at Voldemort’s touch. And who the hell had been taking pictures at a time like that?!) " _ Tortured Malfoy heir rendered completely insane by parents' abuse. Should he be placed in the Janus Thickey Ward? _ " A smaller headline near the bottom read, followed by, " _ Death Eater children arrested after attempted murder of War Heroine Granger _ !" The story below strongly implied that Draco had secretly organized the attack the previous afternoon.   
  
"Oh my god!" Hermione covered her mouth as her stomach lurched sickeningly. "How can they publish such things? What his parents did...that should be kept private! And they're not even accurate...what they said about You-know-who...that’s not true. And Draco had nothing to do with what happened yesterday! He’s been the victim of all their attacks!"   
  
"Voldemort," Harry corrected firmly when she was done ranting. No one else had anything to say.   
  
"Whatever." Hermione muttered, secretly hoping Neville would smack him in the head again. She hesitantly looked over at Draco, and sighed. He was staring at her, or more specifically at the Prophet.   
  
"Let me see it," he requested flatly.   
  
"I don’t think that's a good idea, Draco," Harry said when Hermione couldn't force herself to respond.   
  
"I want to see it. It's about me, right?" Draco asked Harry suspiciously. Harry turned to Hermione, looking like a deer stuck in headlights.   
  
Hermione glanced questioningly at Neville, who shrugged helplessly. "Stuff like this isn't in the Heads' Handbook," he muttered quietly.   
  
"Alright...everyone out. And can one of you send Madam Pomfrey in, please? And ask her to bring a calming draught," Hermione requested as she gestured for everyone to leave. "Actually make that two."   
  
"You really think I'll need two?" Draco joked weakly.   
  
"No. I think I might need one," Hermione mumbled, shrugging sheepishly at him.   
  
"What's going on?" Madam Pomfrey asked as she walked out of her office a few moments later. "Miss Lovegood said you-" She glanced at the newspaper in Hermione's hands and sighed heavily. "Oh. I knew I shouldn't have let that bunch in here. It was Weasley, wasn't it?"   
  
"I want to see what's being said about me!" Draco growled impatiently.   
  
"I suppose it's better you find out while you’re in here, where I can sedate you..." Madam Pomfrey mumbled, walking over to sit on the edge of his bed.   
  
"Wow, it's amazing how comforting that  _ isn't, _ " Draco said shakily.   
  
"I'm afraid it's not pretty, dear," the nurse said, patting him gently on the shoulder. Holding up a bottle of blue liquid, she said, "I want you to drink half of this now. Maybe you won't need the rest." She didn't sound very convincing.   
  
Once Draco had obeyed, he held his hand out expectantly, and Hermione very reluctantly handed over the newspaper. He cleared his throat, and made a bit of a show out of getting comfortable, then unfolded it, took a deep breath, and looked down.   
  
It didn't take long for him to react. The headline about Narcissa was at the top of the page, and he almost immediately curled up in a ball, shaking, and moaning incoherently.    
  
Madam Pomfrey clicked her tongue in disapproval, whisked the paper out of sight, and quickly forced the rest of the calming potion down his throat. He soon went limp, though he continued to moan now and then in his sleep.   
  
Hermione watched him sadly. "Why are people so cruel, Madam Pomfrey? Why do they get so much enjoyment out of seeing other people's misery?"   
  
"I don't know, dear," the nurse replied quietly. "If we could explain it, maybe You-know-who wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did."   
  
"Do you think he’ll be okay?" Hermione asked, motioning toward Draco with her chin because she had her arms wrapped firmly around her knees, and was irrationally afraid at the moment that if she let go, she might literally fall to pieces.   
  
"He's strong," Madam Pomfrey shrugged. "You've seen his scars. He’s a survivor...he's made it this far, after all."   
  
Hermione remembered the grim expression on his face when she found him in the Astronomy tower, and shivered. "Barely," she murmured sadly, wondering just how much more he could take...and she was pretty sure the nightmare wasn’t over for him. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to warn you that pretty soon, this is just gonna start getting weird. Assuming you don't think it already has. :-p I haven't finished writing this one yet, but it's definitely taken a really strange turn...I think my muse is broken.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There might be some typos or other errors in this. I don't have a beta and I have been having a hard time forcing myself to edit this thing so I could get it posted. For some reason, some random spaces got added in when I copied it over. I think I fixed them all, but...
> 
> Please note, I made a slight tweak to Draco's memories in Chapter 2 because I realized tonight that it probably wasn't clear to anyone but myself that his original rib fractures were caused by a physical blow, not by a spell. I had planned it that way all along, but for some bizarre reason, I completely left out the fact that the Slytherins hit and kicked him when they originally attacked him on the train (along with using spells). No idea why! The point is...Madam Pomfrey really should be able to heal the damn things, but for some reason she can't.

In the end, Madam Pomfrey released Hermione from the infirmary before Draco. His ribs simply refused to heal properly. After the first day, Madam Pomfrey made a few muttered comments about malnutrition, and started giving him nourishment potions, but it was to no avail; repeated diagnostic spells showed that his broken ribs were weak and brittle, and would be highly susceptible to re-breaking, despite multiple doses of Skele-gro.

Hermione, on the other hand, recovered from her spell-induced concussion fairly quickly. She was extremely happy to get out of the infirmary after nearly two days of forced inactivity. The thrill of freedom faded rapidly when she got back to her room and spotted Draco’s school bag. It was still sitting beside her own in front of her sofa, right where he'd left them shortly before they were attacked. She felt a pang of guilt that he was still stuck in the infirmary, while she was free to do whatever she wanted, at least for now. It was late in the afternoon, so she didn’t have to return to class until the next day, and she planned to try to relax with a good book. ( _Who was she kidding, she was going to study, but she counted it as relaxing because she did enjoy the textbooks for most of her classes this year_ ).

Her good mood was further diminished by the stack of letters sitting on her desk. Madam Pomfrey had given her several while she was stuck in the infirmary, most of them from the various Weasleys, wishing her a speedy recovery. There were also a few from former DA and Order of the Phoenix Members, including one from Kingsley Shacklebolt, written on his official 'Minister of Magic' stationary with the Ministry emblem embossed in real gold across the top.

The letters on the desk in her sitting room, however, were from complete strangers. Many of them wished her well, but several said extremely vile things about Draco. A few made death threats against him.

A few made death threats against _her_.

After reading the third such threat, she decided to finish reading the rest of the letters some other time. Putting aside the ones containing threats against herself and Draco to give to Professor McGonagall, she pulled out the list of assignments Ginny and Luna had put together for her and got to work.

At around six o'clock there was a knock on her door. Answering it a bit more cautiously than she normally would, she found Neville, Luna, Harry and Ginny standing in the hallway with balloons, flowers, and a huge covered basket. Luna had her hands behind her back.

"We figured you wouldn’t want to eat in the Great Hall tonight," Ginny explained, giving her a one armed hug before breezing past her with the basket.

"And we thought you might want company," Luna added, hugging her tightly after shoving a fluffy stuffed crup (fortunately not a real one) into her arms.

"I just wanted to see your room," Harry said with a grin, giving her a kiss on the cheek and a bunch of balloons.

"Um...what they all said?" Neville shrugged, moving to hand her a pot full of multi-colored tulips. Seeing her hands were full, he set it on the window sill instead.

"Wow! Thanks, guys! I didn’t even notice it was dinner time!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Shocking," Harry said sarcastically. "What would you do without us?"

"Well...I'd probably be dead..."Hermione mumbled, idly scratching the new scar on her temple.

The others cleared their throats, shifted their weight, and generally just stared awkwardly in random directions. Hermione winced and lowered her hand. "Um...anyway...have a seat..." She looked around, and quickly realized there weren’t enough chairs, and her table was far too small.

"I'll go get some chairs from my room," Neville offered, and quickly left the room.

While he was gone, Hermione transfigured her table into one that was much larger, and Ginny turned the two armchairs by the fireplace into dining room chairs that fit at said table.

Neville returned with two wooden chairs floating behind him, and they all quickly realized they now had an extra. "Maybe we should've invited Ron. Or Melody. Or both..." Neville mumbled.

"No!" Hermione, Ginny and Harry responded in unison.

Neville sighed. "I don’t think Ron _meant_ to be an arsehole."

"He manages it effortlessly," Ginny muttered as she conjured plates for everyone. "It's always been part of his charm."

"He's your best friend," Neville said, addressing Harry reproachfully.

"He's being kind of a dick, though..." Harry shrugged. "Besides, this is _Hermione’s_ 'Freedom from the Infirmary' party, and _she's_ the one he's being dickish to..."

"And Melody flirted with Draco right in front of Hermione. She’s very rude sometimes..." Luna sighed ruefully. "For all she knew, they could be together."

Startled by this, Hermione inhaled her own saliva and started coughing. "I don’t care about _that_. And we're not together," she wheezed.

"Mmmhmmm," Ginny murmured dubiously. “Of course you aren’t.” She winked at Luna, and both girls giggled.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Gesturing at the basket, she said, "So, what are we having?"

Fortunately, there was no roast beef, so Hermione managed to ignore or repress most of the flashbacks that the sight of the basket threatened to trigger. She was fine until Harry pulled out a chocolate cupcake.

She hadn’t had an honest to god, full blown panic attack in months...not since a few weeks after the last battle, when she was helping Molly fold laundry and unexpectedly came across a jumper with the letter 'F'. She experienced the same ringing in her ears and tightness in her chest she’d had back then as she stared fixedly at the cupcake. Images of bright flashes of light played through her head, and she jumped up from the table, her heart beating wildly.

"'Mione?" Luna’s voice seemed strangely distant.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked, gently putting her arm around her, leading her to the sofa.

"Oh, shit...she said something about cupcakes the other night..." Harry muttered in the background. A second later, he was kneeling in front of her, holding her hands. "I'm sorry, 'Mione. I should've told the elves no cupcakes."

"You shouldn’t have to avoid cupcakes because of me," Hermione whispered miserably.

"You shouldn’t have to be bothered by them because of arseholes," he replied flatly, squeezing her hands. "What's your house elf's name?"

“Er...what makes you think I have an elf?” Hermione hedged, reluctant to admit she had an elf assigned to her room after all her fuss about S.P.E.W.

Harry raised an eyebrow, and nodded his head toward Neville, who shrugged guiltily.

"Tibby. Why do you want to know?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Tibby?!" Harry called out expectantly. Nothing happened.

"Tibby!" Ginny bellowed at the top of her lungs, after shaking her head disapprovingly at her boyfriend's attempt.

Tibby appeared with a quiet 'pop.' "You'se needing something, Miss...Hermione's friend?" She addressed Ginny politely, though her right eye was twitching visibly.

"Yes, Tibby," Harry said, walking over to the table, and ushering the elf closer. "We need you to get rid of these cupcakes, and..." He lowered his voice, and made a few hand gestures.

When he was finished talking, Tibby curtseyed respectfully. "Right away, Mr...uh...Hermione's friend?" she finished, obviously not recognizing him. Hermione suddenly wondered if she'd spent the last seven years in a broom closet.

"I’m Harry." He chuckled. "You can just call me Harry."

"Right away, Mr. Harry!" Tibby curtseyed again, and disappeared.

"Why do I get the feeling there's going to be a distinct lack of cupcakes at Hogwarts this year, Mr. Harry?" Ginny snickered. 

"Oh no..." Hermione murmured regretfully. "That's not fair to everyone else. I mean, Goyle _loves_ them, and he did save me."

The others went rather conspicuously quiet, and Hermione looked around suspiciously. No one would look her in the eye. "What aren't you telling me?"

There was another long silence, then Luna exclaimed, "How did any of you get sorted into Gryffindor? Honestly! You act like someone died or something!" Moving closer to Hermione, she looked her in the eye and said, "Goyle's decided not to come back to Hogwarts. I heard he didn't really want to come this year in the first place, and now that he can't really go back to Slytherin, he's decided to just work in his cousin's shop."

"Oh no!" Hermione moaned. "That's terrible! Education is so important...he can't really want to work in a shop all his life! This is my fault! I should write to him..." she jumped up, heading for her desk.

Harry gently grabbed her arm, maneuvering her back to the sofa. " _This_ is why we did want to tell you. Not everyone cares as much about school as you do. And let's face it, Goyle isn’t exactly the brightest bulb in the bunch." He turned to Neville, casually said, "Muggle lighting," then focused back on Hermione. "He's lost all his friends. His best friend died horribly, right in front of him, not six months ago. I'm amazed he came back to Hogwarts at all. Besides..." He grinned slightly. "...his cousin is a baker."

Hermione raised an eyebrow, considering this information, along with what little she knew about Goyle, which was mainly his eating habits, as she'd seen in the Great Hall for six years. Together, this put their news in a totally new light. “Oh,” she murmured. Harry nodded cheerfully. "Well, then...good for him." She chuckled faintly.

Just then there was a rather loud sucking sound from inside the basket, followed by a slight 'pop'. Neville leaned over to investigate, and grinned happily. "Chocolate pudding, and treacle tarts!"

Harry and Luna both cheered like small children and raced back to the table. Ginny and Hermione exchanged amused looks, while Neville munched contentedly on an apple he'd apparently conjured out of thin air.

The apple made Hermione think of Draco. She wondered if he knew that Goyle wasn't coming back. The question kept nagging at her, and by the time her friends left, she’d decided to pay him a visit in the infirmary before curfew, just to be sure. She knew he’d want to know.

She studied for another two hours, then noticed it was getting close to curfew, so she closed her Charms textbook, and rushed to the infirmary. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey hadn’t yet locked the door for the night, and there was a candle burning beside Draco’s bed, indicating that he was probably still awake. When she walked around the screen blocking his bed from the doorway, he was sitting up, leaning against a pile of pillows, and staring absently at something in his hands.

"Hey..." Hermione said softly, not wanting to startle him.

He looked up, and smiled, "Hey, yourself. What are you doing back up here? You were supposed to escape..."

"I just wanted to say goodnight." Hermione shrugged carelessly. "I've gotten kinda used to having you around, I guess." She bit her lip, realizing as she said it just how true it really was.

"You _missed_ me?" Draco asked incredulously. She nodded hesitantly, and he laughed softly. "I missed you, too, Granger." Patting the side of his bed, he said, "Come take a load off. Honestly...I've been bored out of my mind since you left."

Hermione smiled sympathetically, and sat down beside him, leaning against the headboard as she pulled her knees up to her chest. "What's that?" She asked, gesturing at what looked like a piece of parchment crumpled in his right hand.

"Oh...Goyle sent me a letter. He's not coming back. His father heard about the fight, and disowned him, so he’s fulfilling his lifelong dream of working in his mum’s cousin's bake shop."

"I heard." Hermione chuckled. "I hope he's very happy there."

"How could he _not_ be? He'll be surrounded by cupcakes for the rest of his life!" Draco laughed, then winced, and rubbed his right side.

"Are your ribs still bothering you?" Hermione asked, glad to change the subject.

"Only when I laugh. Or breath. Or move," he grumbled.

"Why aren't they healing this time?" Hermione wondered aloud. She’d watched Madam Pomfrey use the same spell she’d used herself, but with little effect. The nurse was definitely more proficient at healing spells than Hermione, so what was the problem?

"She's not sure. She keeps running tests, but she won't tell me anything. She just keeps scowling at the results, and running to check her books." He sighed, then yawned widely.

Hermione glanced at her watch. "Oh, Merlin. It's past curfew. I should go...you need to rest."

"Worried about me, Granger?" He asked teasingly as he scooted down a bit, and pulled the covers higher on his chest.

"Maaaybe." Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, smiling softly as she stood up to leave.

"G'night, 'Mi nee," he mumbled around another yawn. He didn't open his eyes again.

"Good night, Draco," she murmured, blowing out his candle, and tiptoeing away.

She ran into Madam Pomfrey, who was coming out of her office to lock the doors. "Running a bit late, Miss Granger?" The nurse asked, frowning slightly.

"Sorry. I just wanted to check on him," Hermione admitted sheepishly, gesturing toward Draco’s bed with her thumb even though there were currently no other patients in the infirmary, then lowering her hand quickly, feeling silly.

Madam Pomfrey's mouth slipped into an understanding smile. "I see. Well, tomorrow night, try to say your goodbyes a bit earlier."

Hermione frowned. "You think he’s still going to be here tomorrow?"

"His ribs aren’t responding to any of my attempts to heal them magically. At this rate, they'll take weeks to fully heal on their own." Madam Pomfrey replied grimly.

"But they weren’t broken with magic. I was able to heal them the other night, and he just re-broke them when he hit the ground during the attack. Why won’t the spell work now?" Hermione asked worriedly. She hadn’t seen Draco get hit by any spells in the attack, so he had to have re-injured them when he jumped out of the way of Theo’s Cruciatus. It made no sense that the nurse couldn’t heal him now.

"I wish I knew, Miss Granger," Madam Pomfrey answered, shrugging helplessly. "I don't think they were fully healed in the first place, or they wouldn't have broken again so easily just from falling down. When bone heals, whether naturally or magically, it's generally stronger than it was before. But I scanned him for spell residue, just to be sure it wasn't a curse, hex, or jinx, and I found nothing. Whatever is going on with Mr. Malfoy, I've never seen anything like it before."

More worried than ever about her new friend, it took Hermione a very long time to fall asleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From what I could find on magical healing, if an injury is caused by a natural, physical cause, like a muggle disease, or being hit with a non-magical object (or foot, or fist, or the ground), it should be curable with a healing spell or potion. Injuries with magical causes, not so much (which is why Mad Eye had so many missing parts and Harry's scar won't heal). This is just what I found in my research, so I'm sticking with it firmly in this story because it is *supposed* to be highly unusual that Draco's ribs won't heal properly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to say, I've been really frustrated with my writing lately (and especially with this story), because I just haven't been able to focus. I felt like this one was getting away from me, and not really any good. Then, I noticed earlier tonight that I actually had a bunch of comments on it, and I'm blown away by the positive reaction it's getting. It really means a lot to me that people actually like it, and I've got renewed motivation to try to get it finished. I have 17 chapters written, and I'm halfway through the 18th, but I just haven't been able to get myself psyched up to really work on it until I read all of your kind words. I just hope it lives up to your expectations. (Warning: It's gonna get quite silly before they finally cure Draco's mysterious problem). I know Draco seems weaker (both psychologically and physically) than in the books, but it's all because something really awful is happening to him. Also, my muse always makes Lucius more abusive than I think he probably really was in the books. I think I just can't let myself like Draco without "fleshing out" his excuse for being such a jerk. :-p Anyway, thank you to everyone who left comments. I'm going to try to get what I have already written posted in the next week or so, and work on actually finishing this thing before the end of February. (No promises, I have an autistic five year old and health problems of my own, but that is the goal!)

Over the next few days, Draco’s ribs showed very little improvement. Madam Pomfrey eventually admitted that she was at a complete loss. She sent an owl to St Mungo’s asking for advice on Thursday, the third day after the attack, but they had yet to reply with any treatment suggestions.

On Saturday afternoon, Hermione reluctantly went to Hogsmeade with Harry, Ginny, Neville, Luna, Ron and Melody. The entire time, she kept thinking guiltily that she was supposed to be introducing Draco to the “wonder” of muggle movies that afternoon, but now he was stuck in the infirmary indefinitely while she was free to have fun with her friends. As if his injuries weren’t worrisome enough, she had a feeling he didn’t even remember they had made plans for the day.

With each passing day, he seemed to become more and more...distracted, for lack of a better word. It no longer took a specific mention of Narcissa for him to go into one of his bizarre "Mother-loving fits." Harry had coined this phrase after witnessing one of Draco’s “episodes” while visiting with Hermione the night before, and it had stuck. Hermione had even overheard Madam Pomfrey using the term in a conversation with Professor McGonagall that morning when she went to say goodbye to Draco before leaving for the village.

A tiny part of her was hoping he'd ask her to stay and keep him company. She’d much rather spend her time on something mentally stimulating, like comparing the works of William Shakespeare to that of famous wizard playwrights like Malecrit, whose work Malfoy had briefly introduced her to when she was still confined to the infirmary with him. Instead, he'd responded to the news that she was leaving with an emphatic declaration that his mother meant everything to him. Hermione had beat a hasty retreat, which meant she now had to watch Ron and Melody, who seemed to be engaging in some sort of "Ultimate Rudeness" contest, with her as the apparent victim/judge.

So far, Ron had mocked both her jumper and her knit cap (his mother had made them!), her trainers (supposedly finding them to be too 'muggle,' even though Luna was wearing a very similar pair), and he'd suggested that her jeans might have shrunk in the wash. (They had  _ not _ , and Melody’s were a lot tighter).

Melody had asked her if she had heard of, or considered trying, any number of hair and skin potions. Hermione was far from vain, but she knew for a fact that her skin was flawless; she had to look at it twice every day while brushing her teeth. And, ever since she had painstakingly developed her own spell over the summer to take the frizz and bushiness out of her hair, her curls now fell in smooth, glossy ringlets that framed her face quite attractively. At least she thought so. There was simply no excuse for the American's constant stream of unwanted and unnecessary product suggestions, unless Ron was putting her up to it. They were certainly whispering (and laughing obnoxiously) enough in between their irritating and insulting comments.

Hermione could tell that Ginny was getting angrier by the second. It was only a matter of time before the redhead exploded, and hexed her older brother into oblivion. Hermione wished the younger witch would get on with it already...maybe she would be able to slip away, and return to Hogwarts in the ensuing commotion.

She was distracted by a display of beautiful, self-inking quills made from white peacock feathers in the window of the stationer's shop, trying to decide if Draco would be cheered up by one (or disturbed by some horrible, peacock-related, childhood trauma), when an older man, somewhere in his late forties or early fifties, in a wrinkled brown suit, stopped beside her. "Lovely, aren't they?" he observed quietly.

"Hmm?" Hermione murmured absently. "Oh, yes, quite..."

"Too good for the likes of you, I reckon. Looking for a present for that blood traitor boyfriend of yours?" The man growled, turning toward her.

Hermione was overcome by the rotten stench of his breath, and instinctively took a step back. The heel of her right shoe caught on the edge of a paving stone, and she fell flat on her back just as the stranger hissed, " _ Avada Kedavra _ !" For the second time in four days, a bolt of bright green light missed her head by inches.

A bellowing roar filled the air, and the man was suddenly... _ gone _ . One second, he was leaning over her, bringing his wand up to take another shot as she struggled to pull her own wand from her sleeve. ("Constant vigilance!" Mad-eye's voice sang mockingly in her head). The next second, a large mass had slammed the stranger into the Stationer's window, sending both her attacker and savior flying inside in a shower of shattered glass.

"'Mione? Are you okay?! Mione?! Talk to me!" Luna was kneeling beside her, shaking her frantically. 

Behind Luna, Hermione saw Harry and Ginny standing in front of the broken window, their wands aimed inside the shop. She heard a few muffled thumps coming from inside, and Harry suddenly climbed through the opening, looking absolutely furious. " _ Stupefy _ ! You bastard!" His voice easily carried into the street. "' _ Cruc _ -'"

"Harry, no!" Ginny yelled, throwing herself into the shop after him. There was another series of loud thumps...clearly the sound of fists on flesh. "Harry! Stop it!" Ginny shouted. “Stop!”

"'Mione...he killed 'Mione..." Harry moaned brokenly. 

His words jarred Hermione out of her daze. "No! No! I'm fine!" She yelped, scrambling to her feet, smiling gratefully at Luna when the blonde helped her up.

The two girls rushed to the window, and found Neville hunched dazedly in the middle of the floor. He was covered in broken glass, and sporting an obviously broken nose. The man who had attempted to kill Hermione was lying unconscious beside him, so thoroughly wrapped in magical ropes that only his feet and hair were visible.

"I'll fucking kill you! You bastard!" Harry was standing over the incapacitated wizard, struggling to bring his wand around to aim at him. "Let me go, Gin!" His eyes were wilder than Hermione had ever seen them, and she wasn’t sure how Ginny was actually able to restrain him. The redhead had her arms wrapped tightly around her boyfriend's waist, pinning his right arm to his side. She had somehow managed to plant her feet and prevent him from throwing himself at the stranger again. 

"Harry!" Hermione yelled. "Harry, stop! I'm fine!" Following the recent trend, she hauled herself carefully through the shattered window, and stepped between Harry and her attacker. "Look at me, Harry!"

At first, he didn't seem to realize who had gotten in his way. He twisted to his left, throwing Ginny off center, and nearly shaking her off as he tried to dodge past Hermione.

"Harry James Potter!" Hermione bellowed at the top of her lungs. "Stop this right now! Look at me!" She held her arms out to the side in a submissive gesture when he finally looked up at her face. "I'm fine, Harry," she murmured soothingly. “I’m right here.”

"'Mi?" His voice cracked, and he relaxed visibly. Ginny released him immediately, and they both threw themselves at Hermione, enveloping her in a three person hug, which quickly expanded to four, and then five as Luna and Ron joined the mix.

"Uh...as touching as this is," a timid female voice spoke up after a few minutes, "I think your big friend needs a healer. And...well...you’re Harry Potter, right? So I'm sure there's a really good reason you've nearly killed this fellow? And why no one's using the door anymore?" They turned to find the terrified young store clerk standing nearby, wringing her hands anxiously. "I've flooed for the aurors," the tiny blond witch added, raising her chin a bit defensively.

Hermione hiccuped, then snorted out a watery laugh, then another, and another, until she was cackling uncontrollably. Ginny also began laughing somewhat hysterically, and Luna started giggling softly as they all finally loosened their vice like grip on each other. Even Ron was chuckling and shaking his head slightly.

The only one not amused, besides Neville (who quite obviously  _ did _ need a healer, immediately), was Harry. He grasped Hermione's shoulders firmly, looked her in the eye, and growled, "So help me...if you scare me like that again, I'm gonna kill you myself. I can't handle this kind of shit anymore, ‘Mione."

"Duly noted, Harry." Hermione smiled affectionately at him and caressed his cheek. "I agree...this is getting really old, really fast." She turned, and stared down at the rope covered lump. "Who is he? Does anyone recognize him?"

Everyone shook their heads, including the clerk.

"Does this sort of thing happen often around here?" Melody asked quietly. She was still standing outside the window, staring at them all in amazement.

"Sort of," Ron mumbled, nodding reluctantly.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed ruefully.

"Too damn often," Harry growled. Moving closer to the bound man, who was starting to stir, he pulled his foot back, and kicked him in the head before anyone could stop him. "That's for trying to kill my sister, you son of a bitch!" 

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione sobbed, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, and she felt Ginny embrace them both again.

"Awwww!" Luna crooned, clapping her hands gleefully before turning to her horrified cousin, and exclaiming, "I told you you wouldn't get bored if you moved here!"

"I think I could use less excitement in my life, actually," Melody mumbled. “You’re all crazy.”

At that point, a series of ‘pops’ announced the arrival of a half dozen aurors, followed soon after by two green-robed healers from St Mungo’s. There was a bit of confusion at first, as to who had attacked whom. As soon as the aurors realized who they were dealing with, and spoke to the store clerk, and a few witnesses who had been outside during the initial attack, they stopped threatening to arrest Neville and Harry. The healers promptly whisked Neville off to Hogwarts, since they'd deemed his injuries non-life-threatening (it seemed concussions were going around) and the infirmary was nearest medical facility. Most of the the aurors went outside to keep curious passersby from coming inside. Two stayed inside, and cast stronger binding charms on the still-nameless attacker, who was once again starting to come around.

Hermione could see the desire to kick him again burning in Harry's eyes, but this time he held back, watching with an envious expression while one of the two aurors remaining in the shop woke the man with a few rather vigorous slaps about the head and face.

"Oi!" The auror barked, "Who are you, and why are you trying to kill Hermione Granger?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around herself as almost everyone glanced at her. The clerk stared outright.

"Her kind don't deserve to live! Corrupting fine pureblood youngsters with her filth! She shouldn't be allowed to move amongst them! And helping that mongrel Potter murder the finest wizard-"

" _ Stupefy _ !" Harry snarled, cutting off his deranged ranting. The auror who'd woken the lunatic turned his head, raising an eyebrow at Harry over his shoulder. "What? He was almost literally asking for that..." Harry declared, raising his chin defiantly.

"Oh, he  _ was _ ," the auror agreed cheerfully. "You just might want to rein in that temper a bit if you really plan to join the department someday like everyone's saying."

Harry shrugged carelessly. "I'll rein in my temper when racist arseholes stop trying to kill my best friend!"

"You've been downgraded from honorary sibling status already," Ginny whispered teasingly in Hermione's ear. “That was so sweet while it lasted.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, and stuck out her tongue before turning back to the scene in front of her. 

The auror waved his wand over the man's head, and a glowing bubble formed in midair. Grunting softly, he turned to the other auror, and said, "Lester Prentiss. He's on the list."

"List?" Ginny asked curiously.

"The list of those who've sent death threats to Miss Granger." The second auror, who was much younger and seemed vaguely familiar, shrugged slightly. "Prof...I mean  _ Headmistress _ McGonagall sent us several new ones after the incident on Monday, but Mr. Prentiss, here...he's been on the list since that fight at the Ministry a few years back. When Harry and all those kids helped capture those Death Eaters."

The older auror cleared his throat, and the younger one looked around at them and blinked. "Bloody hell! I should've realized it was the same lot again!" Turning to the shop clerk, he said, "You're lucky all you've got is a busted window! The last time they took someone down, they smashed up half the Ministry."

"Last time it was half of Hogwarts, actually," Harry pointed out dryly. Hermione gently nudged him in the ribs.

"Speaking of this mess..." the clerk murmured shyly, "...who's going to pay for all this? Those quills are really expensive, and they'll never be the same. My boss’s gonna kill me..." She gestured at the peacock quills Hermione had been admiring earlier. They were crushed almost beyond recognition amongst the broken glass on the floor.

"I'll pay for them," Harry mumbled carelessly.

"If Mr Prentiss here has any funds, the cost'll be taken out of  _ his  _ account. If not, there's a fund to help repair damage from the war. I’d say this counts," the younger auror explained quietly.

"As long as it doesn't come out of  _ my _ pay!" the clerk blurted with obvious relief before covering her mouth in embarrassment.

"Of course not." The younger auror smiled at her reassuringly. "If it came down to that, I'd help you out myself," he said, moving closer as he spoke. The girl immediately smiled up at him like he’d hung the moon. 

Hermione rolled her eyes, then cleared her throat. "Excuse me, but how long do we have to stay here? We've just had a rather nasty fright, and I'm sure Luna here would like to go check on her boyfriend."

"Oh, right." The first auror mumbled. "You can go. We know where to find you all if we need to ask any more questions. We'll contact you with the time and date of the trial when it's been set."

"Are we going to have to testify?" Hermione asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

"It'll certainly increase the chances of a conviction, not that I see that being much of a problem." The second auror smirked down at Mr Prentiss with a rather wicked gleam in his eyes.

"Alright," Ginny spoke up again. "Like you said, you know where to find us." Hooking one arm through Harry's, and the other through Hermione’s, she waited for Hermione to grab Luna’s hand, then turned to Ron and Melody. "You can get back, right?"

"Of course." He grinned at his sister, and gave a little wave. "Tell Nev we'll catch him later."

Harry grunted irritably, but spun on his heel, bringing all three girls along as he apparated them to the gates of Hogwarts. "Is he really still trying to get in her knickers after what just happened?!"

"I don't know...all that adrenaline? I wouldn't mind getting in  _ your _ knickers right now," Ginny giggled teasingly.

Harry smirked, and rolled his eyes. "Behave," he muttered huskily.

"Make me," Ginny murmured, batting her eyelashes seductively.

"Yeah, um...Lu and I are still here, and not deaf  _ or  _ blind, so I think we’re just gonna get away from you two!" Hermione babbled, covering her eyes, and tugging on Luna’s hand.

"No, don't go." Ginny laughed, grabbing her free hand. "We're just joking around. Mostly." She winked at Harry, whose ears were now turning red.

They all started the long walk from the gate to the infirmary. As they trudged up the road, Luna leaned closer, and whispered, "They were  _ so _ not joking."

"Not even a little bit." Hermione agreed, snickering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few notes on what happened in this chapter...
> 
> Ron...I don't actually hate him. I just think his and Hermione's split before this story wasn't as mutual as she thinks, and (in case it wasn't obvious) he was starting to like Luna until she got with Neville, so, yes, he's being a little spiteful and immature now, trying to impress Melody (who is just a b****). He'll come around eventually, but he's gonna suffer a little first. ;) 
> 
> Also, this is the first time I've ever been able to ship Harry and Ginny. I don't normally like them together (I really prefer him with either Hermione or Luna), but I wanted to try to challenge myself. I'm kind of happy with how that's going...


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things... The big one is, I've finally hit the end of this story! It kind of snuck up on me, but I have 19 chapters finished, and there are just a few loose ends to tie up, so it will be 20 chapters long. The second thing is, I have decided to drop the rating from Explicit. (I had set it that way originally just in case, but turns out it's not necessary). I left the rating at Mature strictly because of all the violence, murder attempts, and fairly gross injuries. My muse hasn't been cooperating when it comes to writing smut lately, and I really don't want to badly enough to fight her on it. lol

When they arrived at the infirmary, Madam Pomfrey insisted on examining both Hermione and Harry, then bustled around the room gathering healing supplies for Hermione’s scraped palms (which she hadn’t even noticed), and Harry's busted knuckles.

"Did you forget you're a wizard, Mr. Potter?" The matron asked with obvious amusement as she applied dittany ointment to the back of his left hand.

"No. Well...no." Harry mumbled, squirming in his seat. "I didn't wanna hit Neville with a spell...and then it just felt good, so I kept hitting the guy." He shrugged dismissively, obviously not the least bit sorry.

"But you punched  me in the face, Harry!" Neville exclaimed a bit irritably. “ _Twice_!”

"What? No..." Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I remember I looked in, and you were rolling around on the floor with him. I didn’t want to miss, and hex you by accident, so I climbed in the window, and..."

"You punched Neville, luv." Ginny murmured. "He cast ' _ incarcerous _ ' on the guy, and started to turn around, and you hit him instead of the other guy a couple of times. Right in the nose."

Harry winced. "Oh my god! Neville, I'm so sorry! I didn’t even realize...I just wanted to...I thought he'd killed 'Mione. I saw the green flash reflected in the window of the quidditch shop, and when I looked, she was on the ground...I just saw red. Literally. I always thought that was a figure of speech." He rubbed his face, then looked over at Hermione with tears in his eyes. "I meant what I said, you know. You’re like the sister I never got to have. I don’t know what I'd do without you, 'Mi."

Choked up herself, Hermione walked over, and hugged him, ignoring Madam Pomfrey's token protest. "I love you, Harry, but I hope you wouldn’t actually get yourself in trouble over me. I heard you almost ' _ crucio _ ' him. You’re like a brother to me, too. I wouldn’t want my little brother rotting in Azkaban just because I got sloppy, and let some maniac get the drop on me." She kissed the top of his head, and moved aside so Madam Pomfrey could continue patching him up.

"You weren’t sloppy, 'Mione," Neville said soothingly. Her nickname sounded a bit funny with his nose still slightly swollen. "We were  _ all _ just wandering around, enjoying ourselves. Maybe we should have stuck a bit closer together, but you weren't even ten feet away from me when it happened. I was facing you, and didn't realize he had a wand out until I saw the flash..." He shuddered. "Harry's right...you really do see red. I don’t even remember how I got on the floor of that shop," he admitted, grinning sheepishly. Turning to Harry, he said, "You are totally forgiven, by the way. Just don’t let it happen again." He tried to wink, but winced painfully.

"I owe you a drink or two as soon as you get out of here, mate." Harry smiled back gratefully.

"He can leave in the morning. I just want to monitor him tonight after that concussion," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling affectionately at Neville. "You ‘Head’ students really need to start taking better care of yours." She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "I've already run through almost a month's worth of pain potions in the first week of classes!"

As if on cue, Draco let out a loud moan from the far end of the room, where Madam Pomfrey had moved him so the near constant flow of students with minor class-related injuries wouldn't disturb him. Hermione suspected it was also to make it harder for any more Slytherins with a lingering grudge to get close to him. He was tossing and turning restlessly in his sleep.

"How's he doing?" Harry asked the nurse quietly as she wrapped a bandage around his knuckles.

"I let him out to take a bit of a walk earlier...he needed to get some fresh air. Let's just say that was a mistake," Madam Pomfrey grumbled. "He ran into a bunch of first years playing muggle football in the courtyard. One of them bumped into him by accident." She winced, and Hermione glanced toward Draco’s bed with a frown. He'd rolled onto his left side and settled back down.

"Which house?" Neville asked, exchanging a look with Hermione when she looked his way.

"Hmmm?" Madam Pomfrey mumbled distractedly, patting Harry on the shoulder, and motioning for him to move so Hermione could take his place on the stool in front of her. "Oh...the student who bumped into him? She’s a Ravenclaw. Her older brother is a Slytherin, but their mother was a Hufflepuff, and their father was a muggleborn Ravenclaw. I believe it was a genuine accident, but unfortunately I don't think I'll be letting him out for any more fresh air until I can stabilize those ribs. It's like his body has completely stopped healing itself...he's not eating anymore...barely sleeps without potions..." she trailed off with a distant look in her eyes, and Hermione had a feeling she’d gone into the same sort of ‘autopilot mode’ Hermione did when  _ she _ had a complicated problem to work out.

When she was finished bandaging Hermione’s hands, Madam Pomfrey shooed her, Harry and Ginny out of the infirmary. She allowed Luna to stay with Neville, but only if she promised not to "prattle on" about her "foolish creatures."

Harry and Ginny immediately excused themselves from Hermione's presence, being none too subtle when they exchanged heated looks, and ran off hand in hand in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

Hermione rolled her eyes in amusement, and decided to head for the library to continue her research into Draco's condition. She had no doubts about Madam Pomfrey's abilities, or those of the specialists at St Mungo’s, but she figured another pair of eyes on the problem certainly couldn’t hurt.

Rather than continuing to slog through tome after tome about Dark magic, she decided to approach Madam Pince about the situation. Without telling the librarian any specifics, she heavily implied that she was doing a special project for Defense Against the Dark Arts involving an old case study from St. Mungos, asking hopefully if the librarian had ever read about a spell or potion that could cause such bizarre devotion, and physical degeneration in the victim.

Madam Pince frowned thoughtfully for a minute, then said, "That almost sounds like someone under a creature's thrall. A vampire or succubus, maybe?"

"The person this patient is...was...obsessed with is human. Pureblood," Hermione explained quietly.

"A lot of those old pureblood families are hiding creature blood somewhere in their ancestry. Some aren't even that far back." Madam Pince smirked slightly. 

"Like...what kind of creatures?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Well...veelas, for one.  Didn't your friend Mr. Weasley's brother just marry one of those French veela girls last year? The Beauxbaton champion."

Hermione blinked. "Can veelas cause symptoms like that?"

"It's possible. If a person was part veela, and either unmated, or had lost their mate..." Madam Pince murmured, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "It could be the work of a part veela."

"Um...but the patient is...uh...was obsessed with his own mother," Hermione admitted, wrinkling her nose.

"I believe veelas can bring almost any nearby male into a type of thrall. So can succubi and a few other humanoid species. I don't know how they would affect their own child..." she gestured for Hermione to follow her to the section on Magical Creatures, and began pulling seemingly random books from the shelves, piling them in Hermione's arms.

Once Hermione was staggering under the weight of her load, the librarian casually said, "Those should get you started, dear. I hope you can figure out what's wrong with Mr. Malfoy." She smirked knowingly.

Hermione would have slapped herself in the forehead, but by the time she made it to a table and dropped  her burden, she'd already mentally moved on. 

Knowing she'd never get through the mountain of information before her without magical assistance, she cast a spell she'd learned while studying for her OWLs. It would search for, and  highlight, certain keywords, such as 'thrall,' 'unnatural devotion,' and 'obsession,' as well as anything about veela, succubi, vampires, 'half-creatures,' and 'seductive magical beings.' 

While she waited for the spell to process, she picked up the first book on the pile, titled, 'Leonard’s Leafy Lover,' which was a biographical account about a wizard who'd fallen madly in love with a wood nymph, losing interest in everything else, to the point of nearly starving himself to death. Thumbing through it, she quickly ruled wood nymphs out as a possibility, since Narcissa didn't have green skin or leafy hair. However, she found herself intrigued by some of the illustrations. She wondered if humans could even get into some of the positions the nymph had achieved with apparent ease.

When the pile of books vibrated to let her know her spell was complete, she nearly dropped the book. Blushing, she quickly closed it, and shoved it aside. Turning her attention back to the stack in front of her, she quickly eliminated a half dozen or so others, which weren't glowing at all. She then rearranged the remaining dozen in order of how intensely their spines were glowing.

Starting with the most brightly illuminated (she almost considered conjuring up some sunglasses), she started skimming through it, reading any passages highlighted in bright pink. After reading a few of these, she frowned suspiciously, and checked the cover. "Ugh!" She quickly tossed aside the romance novel (about a woman who’d fallen in love with the king of a vampire clan) in disgust. Did vampires even have kings?

A few books later, she had the answer to that question, and hadn't completely crossed vampires from her list of possibilities. Half-vampires were known to exist, and to sometimes have the ability to put people in thrall. Who knew what a quarter or eighth vampire would look like, or what powers they could manifest? Especially if they also had wizard magic...

As she kept reading, she ended up with a list of possible culprits consisting of vampires, succubi, certain types of Fae, and veela. She thought the last seemed unlikely because Andromeda and Bellatrix both seemed distinctly un-veela like. Certainly if Narcissa had inherited some sort of thrall ability from a creature ancestor, her sisters would also at least slightly resemble that creature?

Sighing, she sent the books back to their shelves, picked up her notes, and headed back to the infirmary to present her theory to Madam Pomfrey.

It was now past dinner time, and Madam Pomfrey came out of her office, frowning disapprovingly. "Have you eaten?" She asked, surprising Hermione, who'd half expected to be kicked out on sight as visiting hours were nearly over.

"No," she admitted reluctantly. "I'm not really that hungry."

"Hmph. Go sit with the boys, and I'll have the elves bring you something." Madam Pomfrey pointed toward the back of the room, and Hermione noticed that Neville had moved from his original bed near the front of the room.

"Actually, I wanted to talk to you," Hermione said. "I've been doing some research, trying to figure out what's wrong with Draco..."

"Why am I not surprised?" Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "Have you come up with anything?"

"Maybe." Hermione shrugged. "Madam Pince suggested that maybe it's not any sort of spell or potion. What if Narcissa Malfoy has some sort of creature blood, and Draco's under her thrall?"

Madam Pomfrey frowned, then rubbed her chin. "Like a vampire or veela?"

"I don't know about veela, specifically, because her sisters don't seem very veela-like." Hermione shrugged. "What if...I don't wanna say their mother had an affair, but what if Narcissa is a half-succubus or something?"

Madam Pomfrey rubbed her chin again, then said, "It's certainly an interesting theory. I wouldn’t rule out veela, though. If she was a quarter veela or less, her sisters wouldn't necessarily have inherited the traits." 

"So...do you think that could be the problem?" Hermione asked hopefully. “Some sort of creature thrall, I mean?”

"Well, she began abusing young Mr. Malfoy shortly after her husband's death. As I understand it, full veelas, Fae, and vampires often die after the death of their mate, while half-breeds frequently live, but go insane with grief. And several species can affect almost any male in their vicinity with their charm. If Narcissa’s human magic were to somehow amplify the effect of her creature side...and her insanity had twisted it..."

"So what do you think she could be?" Hermione asked. “A veela?” 

"I really don’t know, dear. It seems more likely that she’s a veela, or maybe some sort of Fae, than a vampire or succubus. Vampires and succubi don't look human. I went to school with Narcissa Malfoy...she appears to be human. She’s a bit pale, but she’s not  _ that _ pale, and the eyes tend to be a giveaway with vampires. Eating habits, too." Madam Pomfrey shrugged.

Hermione chewed her lip anxiously. "So...what do we do? Is there some sort of test you can do?"

"I can run a test for non-human blood in general. There’s a spell that can detect veela blood in females, but I don't even know if anything would show up in a male offspring of a part-veela. They're so rare, I'm not sure one has ever been tested. I don't know of a specific spell to detect succubi...they're so bloody elusive. There's a spell to reveal vampires and half-vampires, but if the blood is diluted beyond that, the results are unreliable. There are a few tests to check for various Fae, but they’re also unreliable once the blood is diluted beyond a certain point." She pursed her lips, then said in a decisive tone, "Testing Draco would probably be useless in most cases.  Judging by Narcissa’s appearance, I’m guessing that If Draco inherited creature blood from her, it’s most likely only an eighth, or a quarter at most. I'm going to contact the healers at Azkaban, and ask them to run the tests on Narcissa herself. I'll also write to her sister Andromeda and ask if there are any ‘dirty little secrets’ in the Black family history that might explain what’s happening."

"Oh! I didn’t even think of that. Do you think she'll help?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Unless Andi's gone starkers, too, I imagine she will, if she can." Madam Pomfrey smiled. "She was such a sweet girl. Not like her sisters."

"So Narcissa's always been kind of..." Hermione twirled her finger around her ear.

Madam Pomfrey laughed. "She was rather boy-crazy when she was here at Hogwarts. But also rather cold with most of her suitors. Until she met Lucius Malfoy. Speaking of thrall, you'd think  _ he _ had her in his..."

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "What if he was some kind of creature, and she's something else..."

"Doubtful," Madam Pomfrey chuckled. "Unless he's descended from Loki, the silver tongued devil, he's completely human, that one. The Malfoys are far too proud of their pureblood history. They've got their family tree on record at the Ministry from the time of William the Conqueror to the present. They're all known to be purely human witches and wizards. The same goes for the Black Family as well. They've disinherited a few members for marrying half-bloods and muggle borns, but the line is purely human down to Cygnus III...Narcissa's father."

"So their mother was a half blood?" Hermione gasped.

"Oh, no. Well...I'm not sure. The Rosiers came from France more recently. They claim to be purebloods, but the British Ministry only has birth records going back four generations, so who really knows?" 

"How do you know all this?" Hermione asked curiously.

"Genealogy has always fascinated me," Madam Pomfrey said, smiling sheepishly. "I studied the history of several of the more prominent Wizard families as a girl. It's just fascinating to see how intertwined they are. Maybe a bit too much so."

Hermione nodded understandingly. "My mum was fascinated with her family tree, and she started studying my father's side after I got my Hogwarts letter. She found three indirect ancestors that I suspect were witches and a wizard before me...two aunts and an uncle, with various ‘greats’ in front, all for whom there is absolutely no record in the muggle world after they turned eleven. But there are no death records for any of them, either."

"That certainly sounds suspicious. I sometimes wonder if the magic gene isn't recessive, and that's why muggle borns pop up here and there. Look at the Creevey brothers...two wizards in the same muggle family? That cannot be random."

"You've studied genetics, too?" Hermione grinned. 

"I've studied lots of things, dear. I was a lot like you when I was younger, without the knack for getting into trouble." Madam Pomfrey winked teasingly.

"Hey, my knack for getting in trouble has a name," Hermione protested. "It's Harry."

"True." The nurse chuckled. "Though it seems like you've acquired a new one recently." she nodded toward Draco.

"He had nothing to do with today." Hermione shook her head dismissively. "That guy was upset because he thought I was still dating Ron. He said something about my blood traitor boyfriend right before he tried to k-kill me." She shivered at the memory, and Madam Pomfrey patted her gently on the arm.

When Hermione had collected herself, the matron asked, "Are you sure he meant Mr Weasley? Mr. Longbottom said he was ranting about your interactions with 'fine young purebloods.' That term doesn't really fit most of the extremists' opinion of the Weasley family."

"Oh." Hermione frowned. "But I'm not dating Draco..."

"Have you seen the Prophet's pictures from the attack Tuesday evening? They certainly  _ look _ like a romantic picnic was interrupted." Madam Pomfrey smiled mischievously. "It would be an easy mistake."

"Well, I hope you didn't say anything to Draco about the guy possibly attacking me because of him. He’s had a grudge for a while now. The aurors said this guy first made death threats against me back in '96, after the fight at the Ministry. We weren’t even friends back then. Hell, his father was there trying to kill us all."

"I wouldn’t say any such thing to him!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed indignantly. "I'm just saying, there are people out there who aren't going to look kindly upon your relationship with Mr. Malfoy...whatever its nature may be."

"We're just friends," Hermione muttered irritably.

"Keep telling yourself that, dear," Madam Pomfrey murmured smugly. Looking over Hermione's shoulder, she said, "Well, it appears Mr Longbottom would like to speak with you, and I need to contact my colleagues at St Mungo’s and Azkaban about testing your theory."

"It was Madam Pince's theory, really," Hermione corrected her quickly, wanting to give credit where credit was due.

Madam Pomfrey bowed her head in acknowledgement, then returned to her office.

Hermione strolled over to Neville, who was sitting up in the bed next to Draco's, looking bored. Draco was fast asleep, curled up on his left side again, almost in a fetal position. His breathing seemed rather shallow, and Hermione glanced questioningly at Neville.

"He's not doing so hot," he said, shaking his head. "I think Madam Pomfrey's getting worried."

"I know she is," Hermione sighed, sitting on the side of his bed. "How are  _ you _ ?"

"Not bad. Bored. Bit of a headache. Spending the night with the wrong blond..." He grinned wryly. “Not that he’s not pretty, he’s just not my type. She was going to stay over tonight,” he whispered, glancing nervously at Madam Pomfrey’s office door. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What's with everyone lately? Harry and Ginny almost burned tracks in the floor to the nearest bed when they left here earlier. And I'm guessing Ron and Melody never made it up here to visit?"

"Not yet," he admitted. "Not that I'm too broken up about that."

Hermione chuckled. "So it's not just me?"

"No. Ron’s changed. I think the fame's gone to his head."

"That’s ridiculous. It hasn't affected the rest of us. You and Harry each got more press after the last battle than he did, and you're both the same as you've always been," Hermione said, smiling affectionately at him.

"Harry and I don't want the attention. Ron’s always wanted to be famous. I think he's mad he didn't get  _ more  _ attention, really. And, well...I might be wrong, but could part of his problem be that your break-up more your idea than his?"

"Maybe?" Hermione shrugged uncomfortably at this suggestion. She had been the one to bring it up, but Ron had agreed that things weren't working between them. "That doesn't excuse him for being an arsehole."

"No, but  _ that _ could just be his natural state." Neville chuckled.

Hermione smiled, and rolled her eyes. "Let's not talk about him." Clearing her throat, she took his right hand, and squeezed. "I never did thank you, Nev. You saved my life today.  _ again _ . I couldn't get my wand free, and he was definitely getting ready to try again when you tackled him. I would be dead right now..." she took a shaky breath, fighting back tears. Clearing her throat again, she said, "Anyway, thank you. You were amazing!"

"You're going to give me a swollen head if you keep talking like that," Neville joked, but his eyes were suspiciously moist as well, and he squeezed her hand tightly before saying, "I'm glad I was there, but Harry's right...you've got to stop almost getting yourself killed. It's nerve-wracking for the rest of us."

"Oh, and it's just thrilling for _me_ ," Hermione snorted softly.

Neville squeezed her hand again, then let go, yawning. "I hate to kick you out, 'Mi, but I'm knackered."

"It's all that running around in shining armor you’ve been doing," Hermione teased. Standing up, she leaned over and gave him a quick hug. Glancing at Draco, she said, "Tell him I said 'Hi,' if he ever wakes up?"

"Will do." Neville nodded. "He was pretty upset when he heard what happened, you know. Pomfrey had to give him a calming draught; that's why he's been out so long."

"Really?" Hermione asked, a little surprised.

"Really. You'd think you were his _mother_." He gave her a pointed look that told her he meant in the crazy obsessed way Draco worried about Narcissa, not in the regular sense.

This made her gulp nervously. "That makes no sense. He barely knows me."

"You saved his life, and there's  _ always _ been this weird...tension between you. Now that the animosity is gone, I think..." he trailed off suddenly, biting his lip.

"You think what?" Hermione demanded gently.

"I just think...it would be really easy for you to hurt him." Neville shrugged.

Hermione bit her lip, and glanced over at Draco. "I guess it's a good thing I have no desire to hurt him, then, huh?" It didn’t cover exactly how she felt about the Slytherin these days, but it was all she was comfortable expressing just then. 

Neville just nodded quietly.

"Alright, I'm going to get out of here. Get some sleep." Hermione mumbled awkwardly. "Good night."

"Good night," Neville said, yawning again.

As Hermione was leaving, Madam Pomfrey stepped out of her office and held out a small vial of purple liquid. "Sleeping draught," she said when Hermione gave her a questioning look. "I have a feeling you might need it tonight." She patted Hermione's shoulder and went back into her office without another word.

Hermione gazed at the bottle for a moment, then slipped it in her pocket. "I have a feeling you're right," she mumbled before heading for her room.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part of the reason I gave this a crackfic tag is because I pulled a lot of the creature stuff from sources outside the HP universe and cut and pasted different things to make it work for this story. There really isn't a lot to go on for most creatures if I stick just to Rowling's word. It turns out that even Veela are "a thing" in mythology, and they're not quite like Rowling's (I'm not saying that's what Narcissa is, just that I researched them while I was writing this chapter). 
> 
> Sorry about the Ron bashing. I'm trying to get my muse to knock it off, but I can barely get her to cooperate enough to *write* so I have to take what I can get sometimes. Just tell yourself they're only talking about Movie Ron. That's what lets me sleep at night...


	14. Chapter 14

Hermione spent most of Sunday morning in the library catching up on her schoolwork. Harry and Ginny joined her, feigning stunned astonishment that she had managed to fall behind for the first time since they'd met.

"Very funny. Talk to me when you've nearly died twice... _ in one week _ ." She amended her quickly statement when Harry opened his mouth, looking cheeky. "I've spent half the school year so far in the infirmary! This wasn't supposed to happen! I would have studied ahead of time like I normally do..." she moaned, and plopped her head on the desk in front of her. 

Her experience with real life crises had taught her that grades weren't the most important thing in the world, but she was having a hard time fighting off a panic attack when faced with the mountain of work before her. Maybe a smidge of her usual preterm studying wouldn’t have been uncalled for after all.

"You'll be fine, 'Mione," Ginny said reassuringly. "What are the chances of you ending up in the infirmary again? Most of the older Slytherins are in Azkaban now, and you're not allowed to go to Hogsmeade anymore...."

"Um, Hermione?" A timid voice piped up. "Are you Hermione Granger?" A tiny, brown-haired boy wearing a Hufflepuff scarf was standing beside their table, staring at all three of them with an all too familiar expression of awe. He didn't look like he could possibly be old enough for Hogwarts.

"Yes, that's me." Hermione smiled gently at him.

"Madam Pomfrey asked me to tell you she needs you in the infirmary," the boy said, puffing his chest out importantly. 

Harry burst out laughing, and Ginny smacked him in the chest. "Ignore him. He's had too many blows to the head," she told the young Hufflepuff seriously.

"He's Harry Potter, isn't he?" the boy asked her solemnly. Ginny nodded cheerfully. "Mmm...that explains it." With that, he nodded politely, turned, and skipped away.

Hermione and Ginny exchanged glances, then exploded in a fit of giggles.

"Oi! I'm not crazy, or brain damaged...it’s just...Hermione might as well move into the infirmary." Harry snickered.

"Ha ha," Hermione muttered. "Watch my stuff? I don't know what she wants, but it shouldn't take too long."

"No problem," Ginny said, smiling.

"Tell Draco we said 'Hi,'" Harry added.

"Words I never thought I'd hear coming from you..." Hermione grinned teasingly at him before heading to the infirmary.

"There you are!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, looking relieved. "I finally got word back from Head Auror Robards. I've been trying to extract Mr. Malfoy’s memories, with no luck whatsoever..." She frowned worriedly at the the blond, who was sitting on his bed with his knees drawn to his chest, and his chin resting on his forearms, staring vacantly at the windows across from his bed. "He's getting worse." Shaking her head slightly, she said, "Anyway, Minister Shacklebolt apparently spoke up for you....well...on behalf of Mr Malfoy. Long story short, they're not going to force him to testify, and I need to collect your memories of what you saw in Mr. Malfoy’s head. They're actually considering committing him to the Janus Thickey Ward if he gets much worse." She grimaced slightly, glancing at Draco again.

"No!" Hermione gasped.

Madam Pomfrey gave her an odd look. "You don't want to share his memories for the Wizengamot?"

"Oh..." Hermione laughed weakly. "No, I'll do it...of course. I want that woman to pay for what she did to him. But...is he really that bad? The Janus Thickey Ward?" She teared up as she pictured Frank and Alice Longbottom. Surely Draco wasn't that far gone?

"He doesn't really respond to me anymore, dear. I've been having to force feed him nutrient potions. Unfortunately, I haven't heard back from my colleagues at Azkaban, yet about testing his mother. I don't think they really consider this situation a priority. I'm afraid that as far as they're concerned, both Draco and his mother are Death Eaters...and not worth their time."

Hermione growled angrily. "He never took the mark! He was just a kid when he let the Death Eaters into the castle! He's  _ still _ practically a kid!"

Madam Pomfrey patted her arm soothingly. "I know, dear. I'll keep trying until they get back to me. Maybe you would consider using some of your connections in the Ministry to see if we can't grease the wheels a bit, as the muggles say?"

Hermione smiled, happy that there was something she could do to help. "I'll write to Kingsley this afternoon."

"It would probably be most helpful." Madam Pomfrey smiled approvingly. "Now, about those memories..."

It was less unpleasant, physically, than when she’d let McGonagall observe the memories, but extracting them forced Hermione to watch the whole horrible saga again, in detail. By the time she was finished, she was shaking.

"Here, it'll make you feel better," Madam Pomfrey said, handing her a thick bar of chocolate after the memories were safely stored in a series of carefully labeled crystal vials. "Would you like to talk to him? Maybe he'll respond to you." She gestured at Draco, who hadn't moved at all in the twenty minutes it had taken them to bottle up his worst memories.

"I doubt it, but I'll try," Hermione mumbled, taking a bite of the chocolate and letting it melt on her tongue before swallowing. "Sometimes I wish my parents weren't dentists," she admitted, moaning happily.

"They sure didn't do that overbite of yours any favors." Madam Pomfrey smiled sympathetically, making shooing motions toward the back of the room. "Run along now. I need to send these off to the DMLE."

Hermione nodded obediently, and walked over to Draco’s bed. "Hey," she mumbled, not sure what to say. 

He didn't react. 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, she held the chocolate out. "Are you hungry, Draco?"

Nothing.

"Malfoy!" She growled, the way she  _ used _ to address him, what felt like a million years ago.

He blinked, and turned his head toward her. "Granger?" He asked hoarsely. He sounded confused.

Heart pounding, she whispered, "Yes, it's me."

He stared at her with red, watery eyes. "Granger..." he croaked again.

"Yes," she grabbed his hand, squeezing gently.

"I..." he shook his head, and covered his mouth with his free hand.

"What? You what?" Hermione asked encouragingly.

He shook his head harder, gritting his teeth. "Ilovemymother!" He blurted, then moaned, and bit his lip so hard he drew blood. Looking her in the eye, he whispered, "Help me!" before his eyes rolled back in his head, and he slumped over, unconscious.

Hermione all but ran back to the Library to write to Kingsley, stopping only to inform Madam Pomfrey of what had just happened. 

"So, he's fighting it now," the nurse had murmured thoughtfully. "That's good. If he has admitted to himself that something's wrong, perhaps he can break whatever hold she has on him."

Hermione nodded understandingly, and hurried to the library, going straight to the back corner where she’d left her friends. Harry and Ginny were still sitting at their table, but seemed to have lost all interest in studying for the time being. Harry had his arm around the back of Ginny's chair, his left hand cupping the back of her head, and she had both of her hands buried in his hair, which was even messier than usual. They were kissing tenderly, and Hermione froze in her tracks. 

Not wanting them to know she’d witnessed such a private moment between them, she stepped back behind the bookcase that concealed them from the rest of the library, moving as quietly as possible. "Hey, guys, Draco's getting a lot worse..." she said, just a shade too loudly. She heard a chair scrape quietly, and smiled to herself as she stepped in view of the table.

Ginny had her nose buried in her History of Magic textbook, appearing completely intent on the words in front of her. The illusion was slightly marred by the fact the book was upside down.

Harry didn't even try to pretend they hadn't been caught in the act. He casually tried to smooth down his hair, but grinned unabashedly when Hermione looked pointedly at a new hickey that was quickly forming on his neck. "Worse in what way? Did he break more bones?" He asked, looking genuinely concerned.

"He's practically catatonic," Hermione explained, quickly telling them what had just happened. "So, I'm going to try writing to Kingsley to see if there's anything he can do about having Narcissa examined. She’s  _ got _ to be doing this somehow, but the healers at Azkaban seem to be dragging their feet."

"Do you think it'd help if I wrote to him, too?" Harry asked. “Maybe if we get as many people as possible to speak on Draco's behalf..."

"Not to be a downer, but how many people do you really think are going to be willing to speak for him?" Ginny asked dubiously, looking back and forth between them.

"Well, us..." Hermione gave the younger witch a questioning look, and Ginny nodded without hesitation. "Neville and Luna..." She wrinkled her nose, struggling to come up with any more names. Ron and Melody were probably out of the question.

"What about asking some of the professors?" Harry suggested. "You know McGonagall wants to help him. She’s all for uniting the houses, and forgiveness, and such. She was so disappointed when the Slytherins pulled their little stunt."

"Professors Vector and Babbling might help. Possibly Slughorn, too, if  _ you _ ask him, Harry," Hermione mused aloud. "Perhaps instead of individual letters, we should just ask people to sign a petition?"

"Calm down, 'Mi," Harry said teasingly. "Draco’s not your new S.P.E.W., is he?"

"No! He's my  _ friend _ , and those slackers at Azkaban are just sitting around with their thumbs up their arses while he gets weaker and weaker. It's not right! Maybe if they see people actually care about him, they'll  _ do _ something!"

“Alright!” Harry held his hands up in a calming gesture. "You're right!" He exclaimed. "We already said we'd help," he reminded her softly.

Hermione blew out a long, slow breath. "I know, I'm sorry. It's just...you should have seen him. The look in his eyes...you can tell he's scared. He could actually die from this. No one deserves to suffer like he is...especially not him. He’s been through so much already." She felt a tickling sensation on her cheek, and when she touched it, her fingers came away wet. She hadn't even realized she was crying.

Ginny and Harry exchanged a meaningful look that didn't escape Hermione’s notice. Clearing her throat delicately, Ginny asked, "Not that you're wrong, but why do you care so much, Hermione?"

Hermione frowned. "Because this isn’t fair. His parents tortured him for years, and now his mum is literally killing him somehow, and the Ministry won't do anything to stop her just because he's a _ Malfoy _ . It's not like he had a say in who his parents were. It's so wrong."

Harry and Ginny exchanged another look. "Riiiiight. But are you sure you're not more upset because it's happening to  _ Draco _ ? I mean, do you...are you..." Harry trailed off awkwardly.

"Are you falling in love with him?" Ginny asked bluntly. Harry coughed nervously, and she rolled her eyes at him before returning her attention to Hermione with an expectant expression.

Hermione was floored. "Am I...uh...what?" She asked, her mind racing. She had never really considered the the possibility that she was developing romantic feelings for Draco. Sure, they got along really well now that he was (mostly) free to be himself. She'd found her recent conversations with him to be much more intellectually stimulating and enjoyable than many she'd had with her other friends. They had a lot of the same interests, especially when it came to literature, and they had a shared knack for potions. And she'd already admitted to herself that she found him physically attractive...

On the other hand, they'd only been friends for a week. Surely a week wasn't nearly long enough to form a deep, emotional attachment to  _ anyone _ . "No," she answered, shaking her head. "I mean...I like him, but I don't really know him well enough for  _ that _ ."

"How well do you have to know him?" Ginny asked saucily. "You don't really love with your head, you know."

"Technically, you do," Hermione muttered. "How I feel or don't feel about him is beside the point. He's in trouble, and we need to do something about it."

Ginny just smirked annoyingly, but Harry said, "I think you should go ahead with your petition, but we should still ask people to write to Kingsley if they're willing. I think he'll respond better to a more personal approach. The petition can just serve to illustrate your point...that people do care what's happening to Draco."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him, and immediately began writing the body of the petition, carefully pointing out that Draco had been forced by his father to assist Voldemort, and that he had risked his own life by refusing to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor back in March. She explained that Madam Pomfrey strongly suspected that Narcissa was the cause of her son's rapidly deteriorating health, but that the healers at Azkaban were refusing to assist her by performing a few simple tests. Finally, she stated that the undersigned simply asked that the Ministry order the healers to perform the necessary tests as soon as possible, before Draco’s condition worsened.

While she worked, both Harry and Ginny put their homework aside and wrote letters to the Minister. (Harry's was surprisingly long). When they were finished, they both signed the now completed petition, which they then offered to take around to gather signatures while she wrote her own letter and caught up on her schoolwork.

Hermione was suspicious as to how many people the pair were likely to encounter on their way to the boys' dormitory, which seemed their most likely destination, judging from the heated looks they were giving each other. Nonetheless, she quickly made a copy of the petition for each of them, just in case.

After they left, whispering and giggling (Ginny was, anyway), Hermione brought another copy of the petition to Madam Pince.  The librarian immediately agreed to write to Kingsley on Draco's behalf, and to request signatures from any students who might come into the library that day, though she pointed out that there weren't likely to be many on such a bright, sunny Sunday afternoon.

With that taken care of, Hermione settled in and wrote her own letter to Kingsley, though it mostly echoed what she'd written in the header of the petition. At the bottom, she said, " _ He's become a rather good friend, Kingsley, and it hurts to see him going through this, knowing that the healers at Azkaban are willing to let him suffer just because his name is Malfoy. If our society allows this kind of thing to happen just because of a person's bloodline, how are we any better than those who discriminate against muggleborns and half-bloods? You have the power to possibly prevent an innocent man's death. I beg you to use that power, if not for Draco’s sake, than for the sake of helping eliminate the hostility and discrimination that still prevail in our society! _ " It was a bit melodramatic, and perhaps more than a little manipulative, but she really didn't care as long as she got what she wanted.

After finishing the letter, she worked on her schoolwork for a few hours, nearly catching up on what she had missed. Deciding that she could finish her Arithmancy homework that evening after dinner, she gathered up her things, and headed for the Great Hall.

To her surprise, when she sat down, Neville and Luna each handed her folded and sealed letters addressed to Kingsley. Luna also passed her a copy of the petition, filled with what looked like the signatures of every student in Ravenclaw. "We ran into Harry and Ginny a while ago," the blonde explained, shrugging slightly. 

"How did you get so many signatures so fast?" Hermione asked incredulously, flipping to a second page of signatures.

"Your explanation was very convincing. Most of my housemates have already heard about what happened to Draco...what his parents did to him, and how  _ his _ housemates have turned against him. I think a lot of people feel bad for him right now. Plus, it doesn't take much to sign a piece of parchment, and now they feel like they've done their good deed for the day." Luna grinned slightly, then went back to eating a large piece of chocolate cake.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Whatever motivated people, she'd take it. She had served herself some roasted chicken, and was reaching for the mashed potatoes when a throat cleared behind her. Looking up, she was surprised to see Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan standing there. Her shock was complete when Ernie held out a sheaf of parchment. "From Hufflepuff. We all signed the petition for Malfoy."

Hermione stared at them, her jaw hanging open, until Susan giggled and whispered, "You're going to draw flies."

Snapping her mouth shut, Hermione blushed as she flipped through the stack of parchment. Not only had the entire House signed her petition, but several of the older ‘Puffs had written letters to Kingsley as well. "Thank you!" She beamed at the pair, then looked past them, waving and smiled gratefully at several other ‘Puffs who were looking her way. "I didn't think so many people would agree to sign..." she admitted ruefully. 

"This year is supposed to be about everyone coming together, and putting the past behind us," Ernie said quietly. "This seemed like a good way to start."

"Too bad the Slytherins don't seem to get it," Neville spoke up. He was frowning slightly, his eyes fixed on the Slytherin table on the far side of the room. Hermione spun and looked. 

The table was much more sparsely populated than the other three tables, what with the lack of new first year students, and the imprisonment of many of the sixth and seventh years. The remaining Slytherins, down to the last person, were all staring back at them, with varying degrees of hostility.

"Ignore them," Susan said, her voice tense. "Either they'll realize the world is changing, and come around, or they'll get left behind. Don't play into their hostility."

"You're right," Hermione murmured thoughtfully. "I just wish there was a way to get through to them. I mean, I know they've been taught to be that way by their parents, but Draco's parents were even worse than most of theirs, and  _ he _ didn't buy into that crap. Not really."

"Well, I think that might be the problem," Luna said airily. They all turned to look at her. "Draco’s parents were downright cruel to him. He probably never felt truly loved or safe with them, so it was easier for him to reject their ideals. Imagine if they'd been kind and loving toward him, though, while still spouting the same racist nonsense. It might not have struck him as wrong if it came from parents that treated him well."

Hermione smiled warmly at the younger witch. Because of her obsession with strange, probably imaginary magical creatures, Luna sometimes surprised her with how perceptive she could be about human behavior. "You're probably right," she said. "But if that's the case, it's going to be really hard to convince them that what they were taught was wrong."

"Maybe that's why the Hat didn't sort anyone into Slytherin this year. Maybe it knew it had to get the younger kids away from that sort of influence, or things won't ever change?" Susan asked, looking over at the Slytherin table again. "At least three of the first years it put in Hufflepuff this year have Slytherin parents, and they all seem quite put out at not being sorted there. I'm not sure what the Hat was thinking, really, unless it was deliberate manipulation."

"Or maybe its little brain was fried when Voldy set it on fire?" Neville mumbled, shuddering slightly.

"Or that," Susan laughed. Gesturing at Ernie, she said, "Well, we should go eat..." Patting Hermione on the shoulder, she said, "I hope things work out for Draco. It's not fair this is happening to him just when you two finally got together."

Neville coughed to cover a laugh while Hermione stared up at Susan. After Ginny's question earlier, she wasn't quite as shocked as she might have been, but she was still surprised that anyone other than her closest friends would have come to the conclusion that she and Draco were dating. Then again, there was that picture in the Prophet of their interrupted picnic...

"Um, we're not  _ together _ . We're just friends," she explained, keeping her voice calm.

"Maybe not  _ yet _ ," Susan said, smirking slightly. "I always thought that you two would make a great couple if you ever stopped your silly bickering. My mum always says there's a fine line between love and hate with some people."

"Nothing's going on," Hermione muttered. "We've only been friends for a week!"

"Mmmhmm," Susan murmured. "I'm just saying..."

"She's right," Luna murmured. "The two of you would probably have a very passionate relationship."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, beginning to feel ganged up on, and annoyed. Ernie slipped his hand into Susan's, and tugged. "C'mon, luv, let's go eat before you get yourself turned into a toad." He winked teasingly at Hermione before leading the utterly unrepentant looking Susan away.

"Why does everyone think there's something going on with Draco and I?" Hermione huffed irritably once they were gone.

"Probably because you saved his life, then he tried to save yours, and now you've started this whole letter campaign to try to save him again...and you've spent a lot of time with him lately..." Neville grinned mischievously. "And, did you know you blush every time his name is mentioned?"

"I do not!" Hermione quickly raised her hands to her cheeks. They did feel rather hot. Neville smirked triumphantly, and Luna giggled. "Oh, shut up," Hermione grumbled, shoveling a fork full of mashed potatoes into her mouth.

"Oi...'Mione!" Ron suddenly plopped down beside her and elbowed her lightly in the side, startling her, and making her swallow the wrong way. When she started coughing and spluttering, he pounded her gently on the back. "Geez, jumpy much?" he asked, not unkindly.

"Don't sneak up on me like that!" Hermione complained once she'd caught her breath.

"Sorry...I just wanted to give you these...Ginny told me what you're doing, and Melody said we should help..." He handed her a couple of folded pieces of parchment, and yet another copy of the petition, though it was only about a third filled with signatures. "Sorry we didn't run into many people. There was a pickup game of Quidditch all afternoon. Everyone there signed though. Even Marcus Flint's little brother."

"A Slytherin?!" Hermione gasped, scanning the page. Sure enough, the third year, Garrett Flint, had signed. "Wow!" She wasn't sure if getting a Slytherin signature was more surprising, or that Ron had helped get it.

"Yeah, he said he knows a few other Slytherins that actually feel bad for the Ferret, they're just afraid to speak up," Ron explained, shrugging carelessly. "Garrett's already the size of a bus, and I hear he's pretty good with wards and shield spells, so I don't think he's too afraid of retaliation."

"I think I probably have enough signatures now," Hermione smiled gratefully at him. "All of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw have signed. I'll just ask the faculty to sign, and then send it off tonight. We need to act fast..."

"Don't forget Gryffindor." a hand appeared in front of her face with another pile of parchment. Hermione turned and found Harry and Ginny smiling proudly. "We already passed it around the head table," Harry added. "There's a few letters from students in there, too. McGonagall, Flitwick, Slughorn and a few others said they'll send letters to Kingsley after dinner. McGonagall suggested you go ahead and send what you have whenever you're ready. Oh...Madam Pince gave me her copy, too." He gestured vaguely at the small stack of parchment. "A couple of Slytherins signed her copy."

Hermione's eyes welled up with tears. "I never expected this sort of response..."

"Word has gotten around about what Draco’s parents did to him. It doesn't hurt that half the school thinks you're dating him. I think he's become sort of a hero by association." Ginny chuckled.

"Oh god..." Hermione moaned and buried her face in her hands. "We. Are. Not. Dating!"

"It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world," Ron said, making her look up so fast she almost gave herself whiplash.

"Who are you, and what have you done with Ronald Weasley?" She asked sharply, eliciting laughter from everyone in earshot.

"Whatever," Ron mumbled uncomfortably. "If he makes you happy..."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. Staring at the large pile of parchment in front of her, she decided that she wasn't going to be able to eat until it was safely on its way to London. "I'm going to go mail this..." she gestured vaguely, picking up her bag. "I'll be right back."

"We'll try to save you something," Harry joked, watching Ron shove a huge mouthful of chicken in his face. "I'm not risking my fingers or anything though, so you might want to hurry..."

"Ha ha," Ron deadpanned, reaching for a roll. "I'll save her a biscuit or two. If she hurries." He winked at Hermione before shoving the whole roll in his mouth.

Hermione stared for a moment, then shook herself and quickly walked away. "What did I ever see in him?" she mumbled under her breath once she was out of earshot.

She quickly made her way to the owlery, and transfigured a scrap of parchment into a box large enough to hold everything. Once the petition and letters were safely on their way via the sturdiest owl she could find, she walked slowly back to the castle. The sun was just setting, and the sky was gorgeous, streaked with complementary shades of pink, purple, salmon and red. 

She stopped in the courtyard, and sat on a bench, gazing out over the grounds in the deepening twilight. The temperature was starting to drop, and she didn't have her cloak, but she felt the need to spend a few minutes alone before rejoining her friends. She couldn't get her mind off everyone's insistence that there was something between her and Draco other than friendship.

If she were perfectly honest, she had to admit that a lot of her friends’ arguments did make sense. She never would have expected it even a year ago, but she really enjoyed spending time with Draco. She even liked his snarky sense of humor, now that he'd dropped the malicious mask he'd always hidden behind in the past. The memory of the look in his eyes earlier made her chest hurt. The mere thought that Madam Pomfrey might not be able to help him in time made her want to throw up.

Thinking about him lying all alone in the infirmary made her want to skip dinner, and go to him. In fact, she had a distinct urge to wrap her arms around him, and not let go until he was safe.

Maybe not even then.

"Well...shit..." she groaned, rubbing her temples before giving in to the impulse, and making a beeline for the infirmary.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, she's finally catching on. And I managed to get my muse to paint Ron in a slightly more positive light. I really don't like all the Ron bashing in this story, but my muse is really stubborn.
> 
> More coming soon.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah...things are gonna get a bit worse before they get better. And by a bit, I mean a lot. My muse is mean!

Hermione woke up Monday morning feeling a little disoriented. She could hear the clock tower bells ringing, but they sounded much quieter than they should. Yet, the lower volume struck her as being a bit too familiar. Prying her eyes open, she squinted against the sunlight pouring in through the bank of windows opposite the narrow bed she was lying on. 

She was in the infirmary.  _ Again _ . 

"Dammit!" She growled, wondering what had happened this time. She tried to sit up and noticed a weight across her abdomen, holding her down. At the same time, she suddenly remembered why she was there...

***

The previous evening, after sending the petition and letters to Kingsley, she'd come up to the infirmary to check on Draco. Madam Pomfrey had greeted her with obvious relief. Draco had woken from his dead faint earlier in the day, but was once again completely unresponsive.

"Will you try talking to him? You're the only person who's gotten through to him today," the Matron asked. 

"Of course!" Hermione responded, feeling nervous, but eager to see the blond after her admission to herself that she might, possibly, be developing feelings for him.

She wasn’t prepared for what she found when she rounded the privacy curtains surrounding his bed. Draco was propped against a small mountain of pillows, staring blankly at a point a few centimeters below the joint of the opposite wall and ceiling. Tears were trickling slowly down each of his cheeks, but he didn't seem to be aware of them. As she watched, his eyelids drifted closed, then very slowly reopened, like a blink captured in slow motion. There were huge, bruise-like circles under his eyes, and his cheekbones were noticeably more pronounced than they had been just a week ago when school started.

Her heart stuttered almost painfully. "Oh, Draco..." she whispered, sitting on the edge of his bed, and wiping the tears from his face. She wasn't sure if it was a reaction to her touch, but he closed his eyes again, longer this time. Another tear broke free when he finally opened them again, though he didn't move or look at her.

"He's been like that all afternoon," Madam Pomfrey murmured sadly.

"Is he in pain? Why is he crying?" Hermione asked, brushing her thumb across his cheek to wipe away the fresh tear.

"He shouldn't be. I'm still giving him pain potions regularly for his ribs," the healer replied. "I think...I think he's stuck in his own head. The tears are probably the only way he can vent his feelings now."

"He's miserable," Hermione sighed, biting her lip in an attempt to fight back her own tears. "Draco...I don't know if you can hear me, but lots of people are trying to help you. Most of the school, in fact. They've signed a petition to try to get...uh...some special healers to help you..." she fumbled for the best way to let him know people were on his side without mentioning Narcissa, which was likely the last thing she should do right now.

Madam Pomfrey nodded at her approvingly before walking back to her office.

"People care about you, Draco," Hermione continued once they were alone. Taking a shaky breath, she whispered, "I care about you. A lot."

Another tear slipped down his cheek, followed quickly by another, and another as his breathing began to quicken. "Draco? Can you hear me?" Hermione reached for his hand, weaving their fingers together, and squeezing gently. "It's me...Hermione."

She wasn't sure if she imagined it, or maybe it was just a reflexive reaction to her squeezing his hand, but she could have sworn he squeezed back for just a fraction of a second, the increased pressure nearly imperceptible. There was no other reaction, and after a few minutes his breathing slowed back down.

After sitting with him for a while with no further signs that he was aware of her presence, she tried to leave, but this time, his hand tightened unmistakably around hers. It wasn't enough to forcibly hold her there, but it certainly made her reconsider leaving. "I'm not going anywhere, Draco," she assured him, squeezing back. "I just need my hand back so I can work on my homework." He didn't react, but this time when she gently tried to remove her hand from his grasp, his fingers loosened slightly. "I'll stay right here as long as Madam Pomfrey will let me, okay?" She whispered. 

Nothing.

Draco continued to stare unseeingly at the spot high on the wall while she completed the last of her homework, leaning against the pillows beside him. 

At around nine o'clock, Madam Pomfrey approached with a couple of vials, and a pinched expression. "It's time for his potions. Would you care to try giving them to him? He reacts so much better to you. I think your presence is comforting for him."

"He's barely reacted to me at all," Hermione mumbled, even as she reached for the first vial.

"He's stopped crying, and he's looking at you." Madam Pomfrey gestured, smiling sadly.

Hermione turned toward him and gasped. His eyes were still unfocused, but he had turned his head, and was now staring blankly in her direction instead of at the wall. Opening the vial, which she recognized as a pain potion, she held it up, and said, "Can you drink this for me? It'll make you feel a little better."

He didn't react at first, but when she raised the vial to his mouth, his lips parted slightly, and he didn't resist when she used her free hand to support his neck, tilting his head back a bit little so he could swallow without choking.

"I should have you try to feed him some broth," Madam Pomfrey murmured after Draco had taken his nutrient potion just as easily as the first. "The fact that he's stopped eating is one of the reasons St Mungo’s is pushing to transfer him there. I've been having to pry his mouth open just to get him to take his potions, but he obviously trusts you more than he does me."

"I'll do anything to help him," Hermione stated, nodding emphatically.

Madam Pomfrey smiled faintly and said, "I'll be right back." She soon returned with a tray, which held a bowl of chicken broth and a small cup of chocolate pudding. "Just in case he cooperates. The chocolate might help if he's feeling depressed." The nurse explained defensively after Hermione glanced at the pudding and gave her a questioning glance.

"It's one of his favorites," Hermione smiled at her. "Maybe I should try giving it to him first?"

"Couldn't hurt. I just want to be able to report honestly to St. Mungo’s whether or not he will eat without being forced. If you can't manage it, no one can, and it's time to send him to London."

Hermione winced. Picking up a spoon, she scooped up a tiny bit of pudding, and turned to Draco. "Draco, do you want some pudding? It's chocolate..." she touched the spoon to his lower lip, but this time he didn't open up. "Draco, please. Just a little bit?" There was no reaction. Hermione heard Madam Pomfrey shift behind her. "Come on, Draco," she pleaded urgently. "If you don't eat, they're going to take you away, and I won't be able to see you anymore." She wiped absently at her cheeks as a few tears broke free. "Please, Draco. For me? I...I just found you. I don't want to lose you like  _ this _ ." He blinked slowly, and after a long pause, during which Hermione held her breath until her lungs started to burn, he slowly opened his mouth.

Hermione smiled tearfully, and heard Madam Pomfrey hiss, "Yes!" under her breath when he obediently swallowed the small mouthful of pudding, then opened his mouth again.

"See? It's good," Hermione murmured, feeding him a bit more. "I knew you could do it."

After he'd finished the pudding, she managed to get him to drink about three spoonfuls of broth before he refused to open his mouth again. It was a little bizarre, because he continued to stare blankly in her general direction.

"I should go so you can get some sleep," Hermione said after a few long, awkward minutes of this. She gathered up her things, shoved them in her satchel, and stood up. "I'll come see you tomorrow before classes," she promised. Getting no reaction, she sighed softly, and reluctantly turned to leave.

Her suite seemed small and uncomfortably warm compared to the large, open space of the infirmary, but after the hectic and emotional day she'd had, she fell asleep almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She was awoken with a start sometime later to the sensation of someone shaking her. "You'se got to get up, Miss! Madam Pomfrey is needing you! It's Mister Draco!" 

Hermione bolted upright, recognizing Tibby's voice in the pitch black room. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, lighting the candle on her nightstand with a wave of her hand, and reaching for her school robes. Not bothering to get fully dressed, she just pulled the robes on over her pink flannel pajamas, and shoved her feet into the first pair of shoes she could find...a pair of baby blue trainers. She briefly looked around for her wand, but couldn't find it in her panic. Wandlessly conjuring up a hair tie, she cast a quick untangling spell on her riotous curls, and tied her hair back in a ponytail. 

"He be screaming, and screaming, and won't stop," Tibby informed her sadly. "Stunning spells only work for a minute, and sleep potion don't work at all. Madam Pomfrey be hoping you can help."

"Can you take me there?" Hermione asked anxiously, wishing she could Apparate inside the castle.

"Of course, Miss," Tibby immediately reached up and grasped her hand in her tiny fingers. There was a slight pop, and then they were standing in the infirmary, without the dizzying sensation that always accompanied wizard Apparation. 

Hermione didn't spend much time contemplating possible explanations for the difference, because her attention was immediately drawn to the thrashing, screaming blond on the bed in front of them. Madam Pomfrey was practically lying on top of Draco in a futile attempt to hold him still, but as Hermione stood watching in mute horror, he bucked violently, and the nurse was thrown to the floor. When she stood up, brushing herself off before moving toward the bed with a determined frown, she noticed Hermione. "Don't just stand there gawking...talk to him!" she snapped impatiently, gesturing at the bed.

Hermione shook herself out of her horrified daze, and rushed to Draco’s side. "Draco! Draco! Stop! You're going to hurt yourself! Stop! Please!" She grabbed his face between her hands, and forced him to look at her. "Draco! It's me!"

He stared at her, wild eyed, then let out an almost heart-breaking whimper, and wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in the side of her neck and shaking with quiet sobs.

"Shhhh...shhhh...I'm here, sweetie," Hermione murmured, wrapping her own arms around him, and gently rubbing his back and shoulders. "I'm here."

"Don't go." The words were so faint, she could almost have mistaken them for ragged breathing if his mouth wasn't so close to her ear. "I...euuuurgh..." he grunted painfully, going rigid in her arms. "No..." he gasped breathlessly. "I l-lo...nooo..." He pulled back, and clapped his hand over his mouth, frantically shaking his head.

Hermione realized immediately that he was trying to stop himself from spouting more of his involuntary mother-love. From the look in his eyes, the effort was causing him physical pain. "It's okay. Just say it. We know you can't help it."

"No!" He grunted, grimacing.

"Actually, it might be best if he fights it," Madam Pomfrey said. "Who knows what will happen if he keeps giving in."

Draco didn't really seem to hear the nurse, but he did shake his head vigorously a few more times before letting out a harsh cry as his back arched, and every muscle in his body seemed to tense simultaneously. Hermione could hear joints popping, and winced sympathetically. He remained like that for several seconds, his lower lip clamped so tightly between his teeth that a drop of blood rolled down his chin. Finally, he let out a choked sob, and went completely limp, slumping back against the pillows with his eyes closed.

Madam Pomfrey quickly checked his pulse, then ran her wand over him, casting several spells. "He's unconscious," she mumbled needlessly. "Fortunately, his ribs didn't shift. I'm going to have to physically bind him if this happens again."

"What  _ was _ that?" Hermione asked. "Is he getting better or worse?"

"Well, I have a feeling he's fighting the compulsion to declare his love for that woman with every bit of energy he possesses. It's probably taking all his mental effort, which explains why he’s been tuning out everything, and everyone, around him. Except for you, that is." Madam Pomfrey smiled warmly at her. "Once he finally fell deeply asleep, his defenses dropped, and the compulsion started to break through. He woke up a little while ago, babbling about her again, but when he woke up fully, he started to fight again. That's when he started screaming. I think the compulsion is growing stronger, so it's causing him physical pain to resist. It's almost like Narcissa is using a hybrid form of the Imperius and Cruciatus curses on him, and slowly draining his own power from him to do so."

Hermione cringed, remembering all too well what the Cruciatus curse felt like. "She's really going to kill him, isn't she?" she asked, gently brushing Draco's hair out of his eyes.

"Not if I can help it," Madam Pomfrey growled. "Hopefully the Minister will force my colleagues at Azkaban to act tomorrow...well...today," she corrected herself after glancing at the clock on the wall. "If we can figure out how she's doing it, we can start working on a way to stop her."

Hermione nodded distractedly, gazing worriedly at Draco’s face, which still looked slightly pained. "Can I stay here? He asked me not to go..."

"I think that would probably be best. Your presence seems to give him more strength to resist her." Madam Pomfrey nodded.

"Why is that?" Hermione asked, standing up so she could kick off her shoes and shrug out of her school robes.

"I think you know why, dear," Madam Pomfrey chuckled softly, and patted her on the arm. Yawning, she covered her mouth, then mumbled. "I suspect he'll be out for a while now. Try to get some sleep, if you can. Tomorrow will probably be rough."

Hermione nodded obediently, and laid down on the bed next to Draco's as the Matron walked away. She was just starting to drift off when Draco whimpered in his sleep. Tensing, she waited, holding her breath. A few seconds later, he shifted restlessly, and moaned, "'Mione..."

She immediately got up, crossed the space between them, and climbed into his bed, wrapping her arms around him and resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm right here. I've got you. Just rest," she whispered drowsily before closing her eyes again. She fell asleep curled around him protectively. He didn't wake up again that night.

***

Now, Draco was wrapped around  _ her _ . She hated to risk disturbing him, but she really needed to pee. Moving very slowly, she finally managed to pry his arm from around her waist, then wiggled sideways, slipping off the side of the bed. She ended up in an awkward heap on the floor.

"Smooth," Harry's amused voice made her jump, and she let out a very undignified yelp as her friend burst out laughing. "I think you could probably tap dance on his head without waking him right now. You might want to work on that little move a bit before he gets better, though. I don't think it'll work if you try it when he's not semi-comatose." He grinned, and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Hermione blushed. "Why are you here?" She asked grumpily, deciding it was best to just ignore both his teasing, and the nervous fluttering in her stomach at the thought of sharing a bed with a healthy Draco.

"I was worried when Neville said you didn't answer your door this morning. I went to your room after breakfast, and Tibby told me you were here," Harry explained. 

"I'm not sick," Hermione said quickly.

"Oh, I know," he acknowledged with a nod. "She told me Draco’s condition seemed to be getting worse. I came to see if you need me to turn in your assignments today? I'm assuming you're staying here with him..."

Hermione smiled gratefully at him. "I do have some things I need to turn in, but I didn’t grab anything last night when Tibby brought me here." She glanced down at her pajamas, which she just now noticed were covered in purple elephants. "Oh, gods..." She covered her face as Harry snickered. She didn't have her wand with her, so she couldn't even transfigure them.

"Why don't you go to your room while he's still asleep?" Harry suggested, still grinning amusedly. "I think Madam Pomfrey is at breakfast, but I'll stay here in case he wakes up."

Hermione stared at Draco for a while until she was convinced he was deeply asleep. "Okay," she finally agreed, despite her worry about what might happen if Draco woke up while both she and Madam Pomfrey were gone. She figured Harry could handle things for the short time she'd be gone. "Stunning spells don't work on him when he's having one of his episodes, so if he  _ does _ have one, you'll have to physically hold him down to keep him from hurting himself," she warned. "Just be careful of his ribs, and keep telling him I'll be right back."

"Got it." Harry nodded his understanding. "Um...it's his right ribs that are broken, right?" 

"Yes," Hermione nodded, glad he'd made sure to clarify before she left. "I really appreciate your help."

"You'd do the same for me if it was Ginny." He shrugged carelessly.

"Yeah, but Ginny hasn't spent the last seven years acting like a total git," Hermione mumbled sheepishly, her cheeks growing hot.

"Okay, but wouldn’t you also do it for Ron if it was Melody?" Harry asked, winking.

Hermione smirked. "Maybe. If he begged. I can't believe she's related to Luna." They wrinkled their noses in unison, and then chuckled a bit guiltily. "Alright, I'll be back as soon as I can. I just need to change, and grab my stuff. I have a feeling I'm gonna be here for a while..."

Donning her robes and trainers, she hurried back to her suite. Knowing she'd be sitting around in the infirmary all day, which could get a bit chilly sometimes, she changed into a pair of thick black leggings and a long, emerald green knit tunic. After locating her wand on the floor beside her bed, she quickly spelled her hair again, reomiving the ever present tangles, then bound it in a thick french braid. After shoving her feet into a pair of comfortable loafers, she shrank all of her textbooks, and threw them in her satchel. Grabbing a thick charcoal gray cardigan, she raced back to the infirmary. 

She arrived just as Madam Pomfrey approached from the direction of the Great Hall. "Is Mister Malfoy alone in there?" the nurse asked, a bit reproachfully.

"No, no...Harry stayed with him so I could change and get my books," Hermione explained breathlessly, having run the whole way.

The Matron's expression softened. "Oh, I see. It's probably best if you don't leave unless I'm here though," she said as they stopped just outside the double doors. "Speaking of which, I'll notify your instructors that you won't be in class until further notice. In fact, since you're assisting me, I'm going to ask the Headmistress to count your time here as an extra credit project."

"You don't have to do that," Hermione said. "Really, I'd stay with him anyway. He's..." She blushed and lowered her voice, "He's important to me."

"I know that, dear." Madam Pomfrey smiled gently at her. "But you did put in all those hours of research the other day, not to mention organizing the petition to try to get those..." Madam Pomfrey's expression had darkened, and her voice was rising, but she cleared her throat rather primly before continuing, "Anyway...you've gone to a great deal more effort than just sitting at his bedside, even at the possible cost of your own grades. You deserve some credit for that."

Before Hermione could respond to that, Harry's voice drifted into the hallway. "Uh, you two might want to quit talking, and get in here! Something's happening!"

  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if this is sloppy. I tried to get it all posted before I began taking medication for my anxiety, but I didn't make it, and now I'm a tad bit loopy. The last time I was on this medication, I stopped writing the entire time I was on it, so I'm trying to get this posted as quickly as possible before the med really gets in my system in case that happens again. Luckily this whole story is pretty much written, I just need to proofread (which isn't going so hot).

Madam Pomfrey disappeared into the infirmary before Hermione had fully registered Harry's words. Adrenaline flooded her system, and she bolted through the doors, reaching Draco’s bedside hot on the older witch's heels. 

Harry was leaning over the blond, not holding him down as she'd first thought, but holding two fingers to the side of his neck, checking for a pulse. His actions were quite understandable considering that Draco's skin had turned a pale, sickly gray, and his lips were tinged with blue.

"Bugger!" Madam Pomfrey exclaimed, and began waving her wand over him. 

"Is he..." Harry trailed off, looking guiltily at Hermione. "He was fine. Then, not even a minute ago, he gasped in his sleep. I didn't notice right away, but I think he stopped breathing after that..." He stepped back so the nurse could maneuver around the bed, anxiously chewing his thumbnail. "I should have noticed sooner. I'm so sorry!"

"It's not your fault, Mr. Potter," Madam Pomfrey murmured, not pausing as she cast spell after spell at Draco. "Merlin!" She exclaimed after a few minutes, frowning anxiously.

"What is it?" Hermione asked frantically.

"His magic has been completely drained," the nurse replied, clicking her tongue disapprovingly.

"What's that mean?" Harry asked. "I mean, is it permanent? What'll it do to him?"

Madam Pomfrey gave him an incredulous look, then glanced at Hermione. "I forget you were both raised by Muggles. We really ought to have a Wizard Studies course for all the students who aren't raised in our world." Shaking her head slightly, she sighed heavily and began to explain, "While Muggles and squibs can, and do, survive just fine without magic in their systems, witches and wizards, no matter their blood status, have to have at least a minimal amount of magical energy in their system to function. Magic acts sort of like a battery for us, to put it in muggle terms. It's why only the most powerful wizards are encouraged to cast spells that require a lot of magical energy. A lesser wizard might succeed in casting the spell, but expend all of their magic in the process. When that happens, the wizard almost always..." She trailed off, and bit her lip, looking at Hermione with a pained expression.

"He's going to die," Hermione said flatly, feeling strangely empty. 

"I'm afraid that unless I can find a suitable donor, and transfer some of their magic to him...to recharge his battery, so to speak...yes, he will die." The nurse nodded regretfully. "Probably in the next twenty four hours."

Hermione gasped. "That soon?" 

Madam Pomfrey nodded silently, visibly upset as she proceeded to cast a few more spells on Draco “I’ve cast some charms on him that while help stabilize his respiration and heart rate, but they can’t keep him alive for long,” she explained, gazing down at her patient with a frustrated expression.

"Well, who can donate magic for him? Anyone? Relatives?" Harry asked impatiently.

"Normally a relative is more likely to be a viable match than a non-relative, but even within families, it's somewhat rare to find a strong match. And we need the best match possible. If the donor is a good match, it only takes a little magic. Given magic from the right donor, he could completely replenish his supply, though he probably will never be as strong as he was before all this. The poorer the match, the more magic will be required to boost his system. His best bet would be his parents, of course, then his aunts, and cousins. But his father and one of his aunts are deceased, of course, and his first cousins are both deceased as well."

"What about Teddy?" Harry asked hesitantly.

"He's too young.  _ You _ might be close enough, though, Harry. The most distantly related successful transfer I've heard of was between third cousins. You and Draco are third cousins, so it's possible..." Madam Pomfrey murmured absently as she tapped her lips and gazed vacantly up at the ceiling. "There have also been cases of completely random, unrelated matches, but locating one in the next twenty four hours would be harder than finding a needle in a haystack."

"Wait. What?!" Harry blurted, his eyes nearly falling out of his head. "Go back. Did you just say that Draco and I are related?"

"The Potters and the Blacks are related. Didn’t you know?” She waited a moment and Harry shook his head dazedly. “Well, as I told Hermione, I used to study genealogy in my youth...especially the older, more famous wizarding families. The Potter family used to be very large, and your particular branch is related to the Blacks. Your great-grandmother was Narcissa's great aunt, Dorea Black Potter. I always suspected that was why your parents chose to make Sirius Black your godfather, rather than one of James’ other friends...they were second cousins." Madam Pomfrey delivered this shocking news as calmly as though she was discussing the weather.

Harry gaped at her for a long moment, obviously stunned, before he managed to shake it off. "Okay, well, how do we tell if I'm a good match?"

"Traditionally, a sample of the potential donor's magic would be physically extracted, which is an extremely painful process," Madam Pomfrey began. Hermione noticed Harry flinching almost imperceptibly, and grimaced sympathetically. "Fortunately, a spell was developed about ten years ago that tests compatibility painlessly." The healer grinned slightly, and Hermione realized she'd been messing with Harry on purpose. "It won't take but a minute. However, the spell is rather complicated, so if you could lie down, and stay very still..." She gestured at the bed beside Draco’s, and Harry obediently laid down, posing rather stiffly with his arms rigid at his sides. 

"You can relax, Mr. Potter. I just need you to be still and quiet so I can concentrate." Madam Pomfrey chuckled.

Hermione thought perhaps the older witch was taking the whole thing a bit too lightly, but didn't comment because the nurse had already started chanting softly while making a series of intricate wand motions over Draco’s torso. When she was finished with him, she turned, and repeated the rather lengthy incantation over Harry. 

It had, as a matter of fact, taken much longer than a minute.

"Hmmm..." Madam Pomfrey rubbed her chin thoughtfully when the tip of her wand glowed a pale blue at the end of the process.

"What's that mean?" Harry indicated her wand with his head as he sat up.

"Well, it means that as an absolute last resort you  _ could _ be a viable donor," Madam Pomfrey murmured. "But it would require a great deal of your magic, and the chances are low that the transfer would be successful.  There's a very real danger of your own magic being permanently weakened by the process. In this case, I would say the possible benefits don't justify the risks. The procedure normally isn't even attempted unless the test comes up a deep blue, or preferably purple."

"Oh," Harry said, clearly disappointed. "What are the chances it would work?"

"No more than 25% or so of the procedure being completely successful, with a slightly higher chance of Draco surviving, but as a squib. The chance that  _ your _ magic would ever be as powerful as it is now is at best 50%. They're just not good odds..." Madam Pomfrey shook her head firmly and crossed her arms over her chest as she finished speaking.

Harry frowned. "But he's  _ definitely _ going to die if we don't do anything?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed heavily. "Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let me contact St. Mungo’s, and Azkaban. We can have Narcissa and Andromeda tested. It's very possible that one, or even both of them are a better match than you." She bowed slightly, and hurried into her office.

After a few minutes, Hermione plopped down on the side of Draco’s bed, and took his hand in hers. His skin was disturbingly cool, and she bit back a sob. "I can't believe this is happening," she whispered miserably.

"Aw, don't cry, 'Mione," Harry murmured, patting her on the shoulder. "If Narcissa and Andromeda aren't better matches, I'm going to make them let me donate my magic."

"Harry, no. You heard Madam Pomfrey. It's too risky," Hermione protested.

"When has that ever stopped me?" He smirked slightly. "Besides, even if my magic is weaker afterwards, I'm starting out more powerful than most wizards. Maybe this'll make me normal."

"Harry, you'll never be normal." Hermione couldn’t resist teasing him.

"Har dee har har..." he muttered, sticking out his tongue. "I'm just saying, we probably don't have to worry about me being a squib afterward..."

Hermione didn't really have an argument for that, so she lapsed into silence, absently rubbing the back of Draco’s hand with her thumb. Harry started pacing back and forth in front of the windows, seeming almost as worried as Hermione.

About twenty minutes later, Madam Pomfrey emerged from her office looking more flustered than Hermione had ever seen her. Hermione stood up, and Harry stopped his restless pacing. The nurse just stared at them, wide-eyed, until Harry blurted, "Well?!"

Madam Pomfrey blinked slowly. "She's not Narcissa Malfoy," she mumbled dazedly.

"Huh?" Hermione asked.

"The healers at Azkaban did the original tests I requested this morning. Just before Draco’s magic was drained, in fact...which isn’t a coincidence..." She frowned darkly, then shook herself, and continued. "They were just about to contact me with their findings when she started laughing, and dancing in her cell, which distracted them from warning me." She trailed off again, wrinkling her nose in disgust.

"So who is she?" Hermione asked impatiently.

"Oh...right," the healer cleared her throat. Hermione had to cross her arms and grip her elbows tightly to fight the urge to shake the older woman. "The woman sitting in Azkaban is  _ not _ Narcissa Malfoy. She's a Fae...a changeling. She’s been disguised with a glamour this whole time."

"She's a  _ fairy _ ?!" Harry exclaimed loudly. Hermione was struck dumb with shock. "Wait...so Draco’s part fairy?" Harry asked, staring at the blond wizard.

"No. I mean, I don't think so..." Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand at the unconscious blond, and mumbled under her breath. Her wand tip flashed red, and she shook her head. "No, he’s completely human. Narcissa, the real Narcissa, must have been taken  _ after _ his birth." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I've heard of cases like this, but I never thought I'd see one myself. It's been over a century since the last documented case."

"W-why?" Hermione stammered.

"Well, the Fae have learned it's dangerous to meddle with witches and wizards, no matter how tempting our magic is..." Madam Pomfrey said, shrugging. “They tend to leave us alone, now.”

"No, I mean...why would they take her?" Hermione clarified. “I thought they only took babies?”

"Oh. They wanted her for a wet nurse," Madam Pomfrey explained ruefully. Hermione heard Harry gasp behind her as the nurse continued. "And probably kept her as breeding stock once the child they abducted her to raise was weaned. Everyone thinks all changelings are infants, but many are adults, and frequently attractive blonde women. Pure Fae tend to have difficulty carrying pregnancies to term, and their young are often sickly, but thrive if given human milk. In the past, the Fae frequently took new mothers back to their realm to feed their own babies, and then kept them in order to have more children. Half-human, half-Fae children are much more likely to survive. Like I said, the Fae tend to leave us alone now, but Narcissa was probably too tempting a target to resist. She's from a fairly powerful pureblood family, and one that hasn't been plagued by the fertility issues most pureblood families have experienced over the past few generations. She'd just had a healthy, and magically powerful child. And physically, she's quite attractive. I can see why they would want her."

"Wait, so they took her as some sort of nanny, slash sex slave?!" Harry asked disgustedly.

"You could say that," Madam Pomfrey said, grimacing. "She's probably not unhappy though. There are only a few Fae races capable of taking a human and leaving a convincing changeling in their place. They all have a type of thrall, similar to vampires, which they use to bind their victims to them...to infatuate them, so they don't try to escape. Their effect on humans is normally much more subtle than what's been happening with Draco...obviously this one’s powers have spun out of control since Lucius' death.” She paused and tapped her lips thoughtfully before mumbling, “The changeling must have taken him as her life mate...” Shrugging, she went on. “Fae don't always mate, but when they do, it's for life, and they can be driven insane by the loss of their mate. This explains a lot, really."

"But why has Draco been so sick?" Hermione asked frustratedly.

"Oh, well, as I said, many types of Fae are attracted to our magic. They feed on it, you see. They can also drain a Muggle's life energy, but that tends to kill the muggle rather quickly. Our magic replenishes over time, so if the Fae is careful, and only takes a little at a time, they can live off a single healthy witch or wizard almost indefinitely."

"So she's been feeding from Draco?!" Harry asked angrily.

"Ever since Lucius was killed." Madam Pomfrey nodded. "Possibly even before that. She probably wasn’t even aware she was doing it, honestly. When a Fae switches places with a human, they take on all of that person's memories in order to blend in better. In historical cases, the changelings reportedly lost their memories of their previous life, unless the truth of their origins was revealed to them. The feeding process is completely instinctive, so the changeling is only aware that they feel energized around certain humans...the ones they've unconsciously bound to themselves. Evidently, they can also feed from a bound victim over long distances. In her grief, this changeling has been feeding much too heavily from Draco, which explains his increasing weakness, and reduced healing ability. And the mother-loving fits. She was probably unconsciously trying to draw him closer to her physically; her feeding attempts will have been quite inefficient since he returned to Hogwarts."

Hermione stared at her in disbelief. 

"So...the changeling didn't mean to hurt him?" Harry asked hopefully. "Can she reverse it?"

Madam Pomfrey shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid that's out of the question. She overheard the healers talking outside her cell after the tests were performed. Her immediate reaction upon regaining her memories of her true nature...and thus full control of her powers, was to drain Draco’s magic dry. She bragged about it when they questioned her just now. She said she wishes Draco had died instead of Lucius. She resents the fact that the Malfoys normally only have one child, and that Lucius' one chance was 'wasted' with the real Narcissa. She obviously didn't research her target as thoroughly as she should have before making the switch. She was sent here because there was a sickly Fae child needing a human nurse, and she had hopes that Lucius would impregnate her. If she hadn’t hoped for a half-human child, the real Narcissa would simply have disappeared." 

Harry grunted disgustedly, and Hermione plopped down heavily on the edge of Draco’s bed, her legs suddenly too wobbly to support her. "She tried to kill him on purpose? And she's not his mother, so her magic...does she even have magic? It can't be used to restore his."

"No. Fae magic is completely different from ours. It's more like house elf magic, though the Fae can learn to use a wand,” Madam Pomfrey explained quietly.

"So what do we do now?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"I've Flooed Andromeda. She's on her way here so I can test her compatibility. Once I have done so, we'll decide how to proceed from there." Madam Pomfrey shrugged uncertainly. "If you'll excuse me, I need to update the Headmistress on the situation," she murmured distractedly before returning to her office.

Hermione nodded understandingly, and started absently stroking Draco’s hand again as Harry resumed his pacing. It quickly got on Hermione's nerves. "Please sit, Harry," she requested, gritting her teeth to keep from snapping at him.

"Sorry. I just hate waiting," he apologized as he sat on the bed next to her. 

"Really? I never noticed," Hermione joked weakly.

Harry elbowed her gently in the ribs. "At least you haven't lost your sense of humor," he observed quietly.

Just then they heard the whoosh off someone coming through the Floo in Madam Pomfrey's office, and both jumped to their feet expectantly. The Matron soon appeared with Andromeda Tonks at her heels. Andromeda had Teddy Lupin in her arms, and Harry's face brightened as he immediately reached for his godson.

"Hello, Harry, dear," Andromeda greeted him with a kiss on the cheek as she placed the sleeping infant in his arms. "Hermione, it's good to see you again," she murmured, nodding politely. Unlike Harry, who visited her frequently because of Teddy, Hermione had only met the older witch a few times. 

"Hello, Mrs. Tonks," Hermione replied politely.

"Oh, Mrs. Tonks was Ted's mother. Call me Andi," the other woman said, smiling warmly at her. "Any friend of my Dora's is a friend of mine."

"Okay, Andi," Hermione said, smiling despite herself. Something about the other witch immediately made her feel better in spite of everything.

"Let’s do this, shall we?" Andromeda said, smiling sadly at Draco, and tentatively reaching out to stroke his cheek. Hermione realized it was probably the first time she'd seen her nephew in person. "Where do you want me, Poppy?"

"Lie down, and try to stay quiet...if you can," Madam Pomfrey gestured at one of the empty beds, grinning teasingly.

Andromeda stuck out her tongue at her old friend as she followed her instructions. "You always were a brat, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey ignored her, except for a small smile. She quickly went through the same incantation she'd performed on Harry. Hermione held her breath, staring at her wand as she finished the spell. The end lit up, glowing roughly the same shade of pale blue that it had with Harry.

"Bugger," Madam Pomfrey muttered, sighing heavily as Hermione closed her eyes, desperately fighting back tears.

"I take it that's not the result we were hoping for?" Andromeda asked softly.

"No," Madam Pomfrey replied, shaking her head. "I confess, I don't know what to do at this point. Other than testing everyone in the school in hopes of finding a random match..."

"Just take my magic," Harry suggested urgently. "I have more than enough..."

"But you're not a very good match, and attempting to transfer poorly matched magic could do him more harm than good. We have roughly twenty four hours to try to find a better donor."

"Does Lucius have any living relatives?" Hermione asked.

"A sister. Camilla Malfoy Diggory. Unfortunately, she has always been rather frail. She is far too weak to even attempt the procedure." Madam Pomfrey said.

"Wait...do you mean Cedric's mum is Lucius' sister?" Harry asked incredulously. "I thought the Malfoys usually have only one child?"

"Lucius and Camilla were a very rare set of twins. That's probably why the changeling thought Narcissa was a promising candidate for the switch. She only looked at Lucius' immediate family, and didn’t know about the Malfoy family's strong tendency to have only one child."

Hermione's head shot up as a thought occurred to her. "Wait. Earlier you said Narcissa is probably not unhappy, right?"

"Yes, because of the thrall. They've also probably wiped her memories of her human life, though they might have returned now that the changeling is aware of the truth..."

"But...she's probably alive somewhere?" Hermione asked hopefully.

"Yes..." Madam Pomfrey said, then blinked. "Why didn't I think of that?" She smiled proudly at Hermione.

"Think of what?" Harry asked confusedly.

"We have to find her, Harry! The real Narcissa might be a match," Hermione explained patiently. "Probably a better match than you or Andi."

Andromeda frowned confusedly for a moment, then her face lit up. "How did I forget that my great aunt was blasted off the family tree for marrying a Potter? Was he one of your direct ancestors, Harry?"

"My great-grandfather, according to Madam Pomfrey," Harry replied, smiling at her.

"Oh...I suppose that makes sense...she married him ages before I was born. The family never spoke of her, but I vaguely remember seeing their names on the tapestry. I never realized her husband was one of  _ your _ Potters," she admitted sheepishly.

Hermione suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the Black family's ability to cut each other so thoroughly out of their lives. She wondered if James and Sirius had even been aware that they were related. She hoped so.

Just then, the door to the infirmary swung open, and the Headmistress swooped in, her expression even more pinched than usual. Upon seeing Andromeda, she raised a questioning eyebrow to Madam Pomfrey, a flicker of hope flashing across her face. It vanished instantly with the answering shake of the nurse's head. "Oh dear," McGonagall murmured. "What are we going to do?"

"Hermione has come up with an interesting suggestion," Andromeda said. "She pointed out that my sister is probably alive somewhere in the Fae realm. Cissy would be Draco’s best chance for a successful transfer, if we can find her."

"That's a rather big if, especially given that we only have a day or so to find her and perform the transfer," McGonagall said, her face screwing up even further. 

Hermione wondered absently if the older woman's face was going to turn in on itself until it disappeared completely. The thought made her chuckle involuntarily. Seeing the strange looks she received from the others made her laugh even harder, until she finally managed to pull herself together, taking great, gasping breaths until she felt she was under control. "Sorry,"she mumbled, red faced.

"You're a little stressed," Madam Pomfrey shrugged casually, patting her on the knee.

"As I was saying," McGonagall cleared her throat a bit irritably. "It is almost unheard of for a human taken by the Fae to be returned without the cooperation of the changeling in question. I'm under the impression that we're not likely to get that in Narcissa's case?" She looked questioningly at Madam Pomfrey again, and received another head shake.

"Well, where would they have taken her?" Harry asked. "Can't we just go get her?"

"Humans don't normally fare well in the Fae realm without a willing Fae to guide them," McGonagall said ruefully. "Many who have tried to go there were never heard from again." Turning to Madam Pomfrey and Andromeda, she said, "Might I suggest we contact the Minister and discuss our options with him? Perhaps he can offer the Fae some sort of incentive to cooperate?"

Andromeda took Teddy back from Harry, and the three women quickly hurried to Madam Pomfrey's office.

"You do know the Ministry’s not going to do anything, right?" Harry muttered as soon as they were out of earshot.

"I don’t know that. They might be able to convince the changeling to help. She did raise Draco..." Hermione murmured, knowing even as the words left her mouth that it was hopeless.

Harry just raised an eyebrow dubiously, saying nothing.

"Okay, fine!" Hermione blurted exasperatedly. "What do you want to do? Go charging off all willy nilly to rescue her ourselves."

He grinned, but still said nothing.

"Harry, that's crazy!” Hermione protested. “You heard McGonagall! Humans who go to the fairy realm usually don't come back!"

"And Voldemort was supposed to be unstoppable, but we stopped  _ him _ . If anyone can do this,  _ we _ can," Harry said confidently. "We just need to do a little research on how to get there."

"There are portals...well, more like thin spots, between their realm and ours," Hermione murmured, remembering this vaguely from something she'd read in 'Hogwarts, A History.' "There's supposed to be one in the heart of the Forbidden Forest. The problem is getting it to open for us."

"Well...what are we waiting for?" Harry asked, the challenge clear in his eyes.

"Harry, you might be Draco’s best hope for a donor. What if we don't make it back in time?" 

"I have a good feeling about this, 'Mi," he said coaxingly.

"You're insane. You have a hero complex," Hermione grumbled, standing up anyway.

“Hardly. I just like helping people.” Harry snorted.

"Because you have a hero complex," Hermione muttered as he grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the door. She cast one last look at Draco over her shoulder, but let her best friend pull her along behind him all the way to the library. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to pin down a specific type of Fae that might do something like this, but gave myself a massive migraine in the process of trying to research it. Sorry for being kinda vague. lol All the stuff about Fae taking adult women as wet nurses, or wanting them to bear their children is really in the myths, right down to them supposedly preferring blondes. Obviously the stuff about them feeding off witches' and wizards' magic is totally made up. I almost went with her being a veela, but that seems kind of overdone.
> 
> And I don't know why I have this thing for making Cedric and Draco cousins. I have issues? I'm playing kind of fast and loose with the Black and Potter family trees again as well. Rowling kindly let us know Harry's grandparents names, so I can't make Dorea Potter his grandmother anymore, but Dorea Black DID marry Charlus Potter, and we don't know Harry's Great-Grandparent's names. No idea if Charlus was even related to Harry, but I'm gonna go with it. lol


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this gets kind of silly...what do you expect with Luna in charge? ;-)

"Harry, this is useless!" Hermione exclaimed frustratedly, slamming shut the copy of "Fairy Folk and How to Find Them" she'd been skimming through loudly enough to earn a disapproving scowl from Madam Pince. "There’s nothing in these books but repeated warnings about how dangerous the Fae realm is, and accounts from drunken Muggles who obviously just saw luminescent swamp gas or something...considering the fact they lived to tell about it!" she whispered furiously, gesturing at the stacks of books in front of them.

"Well, now we know that we need a special incantation to open the door between our two worlds. Or possibly someone with Fae blood." Harry stretched his arms over his head, and then cracked his neck, making Hermione cringe.

"Harry, I wish you wouldn't do that. It's like nails on a chalkboard," she complained.

"Sorry, I'm rather stiff. We've been sitting here for three hours!" he said defensively.

"That long?" Hermione asked, glancing at her watch. It was almost noon. "Oh dear! It's almost lunch time. We...well... _I_ should get back to the infirmary!" She felt horrible for leaving Draco for so long, since Madam Pomfrey had made it more than clear that Hermione was the only one able to help him at all. Harry didn’t even have an official excuse for missing his classes that morning.

"Here you are!" Ron exclaimed irritably, marching up to their table with Ginny, Neville, Luna, and Melody trailing behind him. They were each wearing varying expressions of concern, irritation, and/or boredom. "Why weren't you in class?!"

"Mr. Weasley! Keep it down, or I'll have to ask you to leave!" Madam Pince hissed angrily.

"Sorry!" He muttered unrepentantly over his shoulder. Turning back to Harry and Hermione, he said, "So?"

"It's Draco..." Harry said, and quickly filled them all in on the situation. "So, we're trying to figure out how to access the Fae realm so we can bring the real Narcissa back," he finished.

Ron, Melody, Ginny, and Neville stared at him incredulously. Luna, on the other hand, smiled cheerfully, and said, "Oh, that's easy! Didn't your parents or grandparents teach you the incantation when you were small?" she asked, looking expectantly at the other purebloods in the group.

"Um, no, Lu," Neville said slowly while the others, including Melody, looked at her like she'd grown an extra head. "Did _yours_?"

"Of course, silly!" Luna replied brightly. "My mum taught me when I was five. She took me to a clearing in the woods near our house, and taught me how to open the portal there. We went to the Fae realm several times, but she warned me never to go there alone, so I haven't been back since she blew herself up." She sighed sadly, and Neville put his arm around her.

"You've been to the Fae realm?" Harry asked excitedly. Luna nodded. "There and back?" Luna gave him a 'Duh!' look that made everyone chuckle. "Luna, that's brilliant! Can you show us how to get there?" he asked eagerly...and loudly.

"That's it! All of you lot...get out! Now!" Madam Pince growled, hands on her hips.

"We were just leaving anyway," Harry said distractedly, standing up, and practically skipping toward the door, leaving all of the books they'd been using scattered across the table.

"Sorry, Madam Pince," Hermione murmured guiltily. She flicked her wand, sending the library books back to their shelves, then grabbed both her and Harry's bags.

"I'll take that..." Neville offered, taking Harry's bag as they all followed in Harry's footsteps, albeit much less enthusiastically. "What the hell has gotten into Harry? He's acting mental. I've never seen him this...hyper."

"Isn't it obvious? It's been about four months since his last dangerous, hairbrained scheme to get himself...and the rest of us...killed. He's probably going through withdrawal," Ron muttered sarcastically.

As annoying as Ron had been the last few months, Hermione couldn’t really disagree with him.

"I think it's sweet. He found out Narcissa and Draco are related to him, so he wants to save them. It makes sense...they're the only family he has left," Ginny pointed out calmly.

Hermione realized Ginny also had a valid point, though her logic was slightly flawed. "He has Andromeda and Teddy, too."

"Don't you _want_ Draco to be saved?" Luna asked curiously.

"Well, yes, but I think it's reckless to go off half-cocked on some crazy rescue mission..." Hermione began hesitantly. She was honestly torn between desperately wanting to save Draco, and not wanting to put her friends in danger again so soon after the end of the war.

"Go off what? Half...what?" Ron interrupted, his face twisted in evident confusion.

"What do roosters have to do with anything?" Ginny added. "Or do you mean..." she tilted her head slightly toward her brother's crotch, then Neville's, blushing furiously.

Hermione frowned confusedly, then burst out laughing. "Oh, no! Neither. It's a muggle saying. Something to do with guns...rushing into a fight with your gun not fully ready to fire. It means unprepared, basically."

"Why didn't you just _say_ 'unprepared' then?" Melody grumbled.

Hermione sighed heavily. "Anyway...I think it's foolish to rush off on some crazy rescue mission when we have no idea where Narcissa is, or how to get to her, let alone how to get back from the Fae realm."

"You can always just _ask_ someone where she is when you get there," Luna said with another comical 'I'm surrounded by idiots' expression. "Everyone I met there was very helpful."

"That fits absolutely _nothing_ I've read about the Fae," Hermione said, shaking her head slightly. "The few wizards who have managed to return from their realm barely escaped with their lives. Or, they were released, but only after being held there until their physical beauty had faded."

Luna frowned thoughtfully for a moment. "Maybe I should come with you..." she suggested, just as they finally caught up with Harry, who was waiting impatiently just inside the front doors.

Harry, who had been pacing again, stopped and smiled delightedly at the blonde witch. "That's a great idea, Luna!"

"Oh Merlin...here we go again..." Neville murmured, rubbing his forehead.

"I don't really think-" Hermione started.

"Well, if Lu goes, I'm going," Melody cut her off as if she weren't even talking, placing her hands on her hips, and moving to stand beside her cousin.

"I suppose-" Harry began, sounding a bit hesitant now. Hermione had to smother a laugh at the mild disgust he was failing to hide.

"Ron, too," Melody spoke over him as well, nodding decisively.

"Yeah," Ron nodded too, a bit absently, then blinked at the American. "Wait...what?"

"Yay! It's decided! We're all going!" Luna squealed excitedly, and Neville and Ginny both let out pained groans. "Oh, I can't wait! I haven't been to the Fae realm since I was nine!" She jumped up and down, clapping her hands a few times, then shouted, "We should bring snacks. It’s not safe to eat the Fae’s food." She immediately turned on her heel, and disappeared into the Great Hall.

Hermione glanced at Neville, who had a very strained expression on his face, like he was in pain, or maybe slightly constipated. Neville smiled weakly, and said, "Well, at least she warned us ahead of time." He shrugged sheepishly, and followed his girlfriend into the Great Hall. Ron and Melody glanced at each other, shrugged at each other, and went after him.

"Harry, this is _insane_ ," Ginny said quietly after dragging him a few feet away from Hermione.

"It's for Draco. He's going to die if we don't help him. Do you know what that would do to ‘Mione?" Harry murmured, glancing toward Hermione, who quickly tried to act as though she wasn't eavesdropping.

"What do you think it'll do to her if we're all killed by fairies?!" Ginny hissed.

"We're not going to be killed. We have Luna," Harry whispered loudly. "She's been there loads of times!"

"When she was _nine_!" Ginny shot back. "I love her, but Merlin only knows if she's really even been there, or if it was all just a game her mum played with her. I met her mum a few times, you know. Luna doesn't get all... _that_ from her dad." She wiggled her fingers vaguely around her head, and Hermione struggled to suppress another laugh.

"If it was just a game, she won't be able to open the door, and you can say ‘I told you so’ all the way to Draco’s funeral," Harry muttered fiercely, immediately killing Hermione’s desire to laugh, and even making Ginny take a small step away from her boyfriend. "But if she does open the portal, will you trust her? Trust me? It's not just for Draco. The real Narcissa is stuck there. She could be being used like some kind of brood mare for Merlin's sake. We can't just leave her there!"

"Why can't we just let the Ministry handle it?" Ginny asked, sounding defeated.

"They're not going to do anything," Harry snorted. "You know what public opinion of the Malfoys is like these days. Getting the Ministry to perform a few tests on Narcissa was one thing...they won't risk Aurors lives for them."

"But _we_ should risk _ours_?" Ginny grunted. “I don’t mean to sound like I don’t care, Harry. It’s just...I just finally got you back...” She reached out and stroked his cheek, then let her hand fall back to her side. “I can’t lose you again.

“You’re not going to lose me.” Harry’s expression softened, and he pulled her close. "Like I said...if Luna can't open the door, fine. I'll drop it. There was nothing helpful in the library, so Luna’s really our last hope. But if she _can_ open the portal, it means she really knows what she's talking about Gin. I think she can get us there and back...safely. I've got a really good feeling about this."

"Oh, and are you a seer now?" Ginny chuckled softly.

By the way she affectionately caressed Harry’s cheek again as she said it, Hermione knew he had won. She had to admit he'd made some good points, and even though she still felt like the plan was completely mad, part of her couldn't wait for them to get started. While they waited for their friends to return, Harry and Ginny slipped into a small alcove behind a nearby statue, and the distinct kissing noises that drifted from the shadows there soon made Hermione half-heartedly wish she was deaf. Couldn’t they go five minutes without snogging?!

She sighed with relief when the others finally emerged from the Great Hall about fifteen minutes later. Luna and Ron were each carrying small canvas bags, which Hermione assumed held shrunken food. Otherwise, Luna must be extremely confident that their trip wouldn’t take longer than a few hours. "Is that all we're taking?" She asked. "Just food?"

"We shouldn't need much more. We'll have our wands, and Melody is quite good at healing spells," Luna said, smiling proudly at her cousin. "Not that we should need them," she added quickly.

"Right," Harry said, startling Hermione, who hadn't realized he and Ginny were now standing right behind her. She let out an undignified squeak as her heart rate shot through the ceiling.

"Don't sneak up on people like that!" she shrieked, spinning around, and swatting at him.

"Sorry?" he said, looking a bit confused by the intensity of her reaction.

"I've been attacked twice in the last week," she reminded him, pressing her hand to her chest, and trying to take a deep breath. "I'm a bit jumpy."

Harry's face fell. "Oh, 'Mione, I'm so sorry," he apologized again, far more sincerely.

"It's okay, just...try not to do that," Hermione murmured, feeling embarrassed now that her pulse was slowing back to normal. "Are we ready to get this over with?"

"I believe so," Luna chirped, looking positively giddy.

They group exchanged nervous glances, shrugged almost in unison, and headed for the front doors. Suddenly, Hermione stopped in her tracks, snapping her fingers as a thought occurred to her. "We need to tell someone where we're going. In case we don't make it back in time..." She hated to suggest they might be too late to save Draco, or that they might not make it back at all, but her practical side couldn’t ignore the possibility.

"If we tell a teacher what we’re doing, they'll try to stop us," Harry pointed out, almost pouting.

"How about this...if we get the door to the Fae realm open, we’ll send a message by Patronus before passing through it?" Ginny suggested.

"How are we going to do that? I barely get a little flicker of light when I try to conjure a Patronus," Melody said skeptically. Hermione suddenly wondered just how much information about the war, and especially the last battle, had been shared outside the British wizarding community. A picture of the DA members warding off Voldemort’s dementors (Colin Creevy’s last photo) had graced the Prophet for weeks after the battle.

"Oh, we can all conjure a fully formed Patronus," Luna informed her cousin casually. "Harry taught us. I’m sure we’ll be back in time, but it’s probably a good idea to let someone know where we’re going." She smiled warmly at Hermione and then Ginny. “Good thinking, both of you.” Melody’s eyes widened, then her face settled in a slight sneer.

"Can we just get this over with?" Neville muttered abruptly, looking as worried as Hermione felt, though probably for slightly different reasons.

"Yes," Harry said, nodding firmly in the authoritative manner he'd picked up over the last few years. "Let’s go. Luna, you lead the way." She immediately headed out the door, and they all trailed after her, down across the castle grounds, and toward one of several paths leading into the Forbidden Forest.

Luna paused briefly at the edge of the dark woods. "Just remember, don't eat or drink anything the Fae offer you, no matter how tempting it is," she reminded them, giving Ron a meaningful look.

"I can control myself," he shot back impatiently.

"You'd better," Luna replied ominously.

"Will it kill us?" Ginny asked.

"Worse," Luna murmured cryptically, then kept walking.

The forest was dark, and even though Hermione had spent quite a bit of time there, on more than one occasion, it was still frightening. The group talked quietly in the beginning, but as they progressed deeper and deeper into the heart of the woods, all conversation gradually dwindled out.

After they’d walked for a few hours, it became even darker, and they were forced to draw their wands for light. Fortunately, the branches overhead were too thick to allow for much undergrowth, but there were still plenty of rocks and fallen logs to hinder their progress. They'd heard large, unseen _things_ crashing through the trees on more than one occasion. They shakily assured themselves it was just the Centaurs, but the group moved closer together each time this occurred, until they were walking so closely they were all but tripping over each other. The gaps between the trees were so narrow in some places that they were forced to walk single file. Harry and Neville were on either end of the line, with Harry just ahead of Luna, who calmly directed him where to go. Despite the blonde’s apparent confidence, Hermione strongly suspected they were lost. She was about to suggest that they just go back to the castle, when Luna stopped so abruptly that Melody ran into her. Ron barely stopped before knocking into the American, and Hermione yelped loudly as she collided with him. She heard Neville curse behind her, and a tiny grunt from Ginny.

"This is it!" Luna announced loudly. Everyone cringed as her voice echoed through the trees. It seemed unnaturally loud, and Hermione realized that they hadn't heard anything but the sound of their own footsteps for the last few minutes. Thankfully, the crashing sounds had stopped, but so had the other, quieter noises that were normal for the forest. There was never much bird song, but even the occasional audible shrieks of bats, and the fluttering of their nearly silent wings had stopped. On the other hand, the thick fog that never seemed to fully dissipate had grown noticeably thicker, seeming to press in upon them from all sides. The hairs on the back of Hermione’s neck rose when she noticed that the fog wasn’t invading the small space between several rough, moss covered tree trunks in which they were clustered together.

Other than the intense silence, and strange fog, there was nothing at all remarkable about the area they now stood in. Hermione had expected a flower filled glade, possibly flooded with moonlight, with some sort of obvious portal...an opening in a tree trunk, or a large crack in a giant rock. Even a hole in the ground would have been reassuring, as long as there was something... _door-like_. Instead, they were standing in a totally random spot, amongst the same huge, ancient trees they’d been walking past for hours. They weren’t even arranged in a noticeable pattern, just scattered randomly like the rest of the forest.

Her heart began to sink even as Luna skipped happily toward a rotting log almost completely obscured by thick moss.. Clearing her throat, she said, "Alright, everyone form a circle, and copy me. You all have to perform the ritual, or you won’t be able to pass through."

They all obediently moved into a rough circle around the fallen log, then looked expectantly at Luna. "Well?" Harry asked a bit impatiently when the blonde just gazed dreamily at the moss-covered lump for a while.

"Oh...right," luna murmured sheepishly, visibly shaking herself from her daze. Holding her right hand in front of her, she solemnly said, "Put your right hand in the circle..." she instructed, then waited patiently until they'd all extended their right arms. "Now, take it out." Harry and Neville looked questioningly at each other, but everyone obeyed. "Now put your right hand in the circle again..."

Something began to niggle at the back of Hermione’s mind. "Wait a second..."

"Shhhh!" Luna ordered firmly. "Now, shake it all around..."

Recognition flashed across Harry's face. "This is the bloody Hokey Pokey!" he blurted incredulously, putting his hands on his hips. Hermione nodded in agreement, but the others all looked at them blankly.

"I thought you weren't familiar with the ritual to enter the Fae realm?" Luna asked, still waving her right hand around in front of her, and gesturing impatiently for the rest of them to imitate her.

"It's not a ritual, it's a little kids' game. Every muggle kid knows it!" Harry retorted vehemently.

"It's called the ritual of Hoque Puquet, Harry, after the ancient gatekeeper who stands guard between the two realms. I don't know how muggles would have learned it, but I assure you, this _is_ the way to open the portal, Harry," Luna said emphatically. "Now quit questioning me and do it..." she ordered, pointedly shaking her right hand again.

Harry gave Hermione a pained look, mumbled, "You owe me big time," then obediently shook his hand around.

Sighing heavily, Hermione thought about Draco, and gave her hand a half-hearted shake, hoping they wouldn't really have to do the whole thing.

"Now do the dance of Hoque Puquet, and turn around like this..." Luna ordered after they'd each shaken their right hand. She shimmied her hips, and pumped her arms in the unmistakable movements of the familiar playground game. A hysterical giggle bubbled up in Hermione's chest, earning her a rather scathing glare from the normally serene blonde.

"Draco, you owe us _all_ big time..." Hermione muttered under her breath as she reluctantly performed the dance.

Luna did, indeed, make them repeat the movements with their left hands, both feet, and their heads. Fortunately, she didn't include knees, elbows or other even sillier body parts like noses or ears like some of Hermione's childhood friends had done. Finally, she proceeded to tell them to put their ‘whole selves’ in the circle, but when the group jumped forward, all but Luna expecting to repeat all of the ‘in, out, in again, and shaking’ process again, the ground in the middle of the circle had opened up beneath them, and they found themselves falling into a very deep hole.

Everyone but Luna screamed in terror, but the blonde witch calmly announced. "It's fine. There's pillows at the bottom."

"Pillows?!" Ginny shrieked, clinging to Harry’s arm as they continued to plummet downward. Strange, luminous mushrooms lit their way, but Hermione almost wished they didn't, since the soft glow revealed a seemingly bottomless pit below them. She was reminded of "Alice in Wonderland," and hoped for a moment that perhaps this was all just a bad dream.

"They're really _big_ pillows," Luna murmured casually, crossing her arms, closing her eyes, and apparently settling in for a very long fall. "You might want to take a nap. It's going to be a while, and we'll have a bit of a walk after we land."

Hermione just gaped at her friend, then looked around at the rest of the group. Ron was trying in vain to convince Melody to stop screaming, Harry and Ginny were locked in a tight embrace, and Neville was rummaging through the bag of food Luna had been carrying.

Yup...if this wasn't a dream, she had clearly gone ‘round the bend...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, it's silly. I did warn you... ;-) The next one is even sillier.
> 
> Edited 2/26/16 to fix a tiny oops. Removed Hermione thinking about apparating back to the castle gate because they can't do that. Duh.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything's different in the Fae realm...

A jarring impact woke Hermione a few hours after the seven friends had begun their descent into the Fae realm. She hadn’t even realized she’d managed to drift off until she landed on a massive cushion, bounced off, and landed again on the hard packed dirt beside it, knocking the breath from her lungs. She rolled onto her back, struggling to draw in fresh air, but her lungs seemed to have seized up from the shock of her sudden landing. This, combined with the rather stagnant air in the rough, dimly lit chamber she currently found herself in, made it almost impossible to catch her breath.

Judging by the pained moans, groans and gasps coming from around her, her friends weren’t faring much better. Except for Luna, of course. The blonde soon appeared, looming above Hermione. “Are you alright? Here, eat this...” She handed Hermione a tiny, glowing mushroom. “It’ll help.”

“You said not to eat anything here,” Hermione wheezed, looking at the fungus suspiciously.

“I said not to eat anything the Fae give you. They’ll be trying to capture your soul forever, you know...” Luna replied carelessly before turning to Ginny, who had just landed beside Hermione with a loud thump and a pained yelp.

Hermione stared at the mushroom for a long moment, then shrugged, and popped it in her mouth. Even if she wasn’t dreaming, her life couldn’t really get much worse than it already was, so she decided to just go with whatever the Ravenclaw suggested until she woke up, or they found their way back home, whichever came first. She was relieved when the spasms in her chest immediately eased upon eating the strange fungus. Her lungs seemed to expand instantly, and the air suddenly seemed fresher. “So...the Fae realm is underground?” She asked as she stood up, and brushed herself off.

“Not exactly,” Luna replied, grinning mischievously. Once everyone had managed to stagger to their feet, she said, “Follow me!” and started walking toward the nearest earthen wall. No one was very surprised when she walked right through it.

Hermione closed her eyes instinctively as she approached the wall. She’d always done the same thing at King’s Cross station. When a warm breeze brushed across her face, she opened them, and blinked in surprise. She was at the edge of a large, open meadow. The bright, slightly greenish sky overhead was completely void of clouds, and a somewhat purplish stream cut across the clearing several meters ahead of them. Tall, silvery trunked trees surrounded the area. They looked like ordinary birch trees, but their leaves were pink. At least the grass underfoot was green...an unnatural shade of chartreuse, but green, nonetheless. “Whoa...” she murmured, gazing around in amazement.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Luna asked, smiling rapturously.

“Incredible,” Hermione murmured, rapidly turning her head around, looking every which way.

“Whoa!” Harry mumbled, coming up between them. His glasses were cracked again, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“ _Occulus Reparo_!” Luna murmured casually out of the corner of her mouth, not even looking at him. Hermione giggled.

“Am I that predictable?” Harry chuckled sheepishly.

“Only on days ending in Y,” Ron joked, also joining them. Melody and Ginny passed through the wall just behind him, and then Neville. They all stopped and stared at the bizarre vista in front of them.

“This way...” Luna pointed slightly to their left, and started walking across the grass. The other shrugged at each other, then followed. As they walked, all three couples paired off. Ron and Melody were holding hands, exchanging shy glances every now and then. Neville had his arm around Luna’s shoulders, and hers was around his waist. Ginny and Harry were in a similar position, but since the height difference between them was smaller, Ginny also had her head resting on Harry’s shoulder. Hermione fell slightly behind, watching them with a tiny smile. After everything they’d all been through, it was nice to see her friends happy.

The field was dotted with occasional small pools of a liquid so black that Hermione knew instinctively it wasn’t water, mud, or anything else she’d encountered before. The surfaces of these pools didn’t reflect the sky above them, and she felt an odd pull as she passed each one...an urge to look closer. The urge grew stronger with each pool they passed.

“Stay away from that!” Luna barked, uncharacteristically stern, when Neville paused to lean over the third such pool. She offered no explanation, but the group didn’t need to be told again. They obediently gave the rest of the strange pools a wide berth, and the group soon arrived at the edge of the forest on the far side of the clearing. “Okay, stick together, guys. Remember, not everything here is as it seems...”

The others nodded obediently and the all shuffled after her along another cramped, narrow path between enormous tree trunks. Because of the silvery glow emanating from the trees, this forest wasn’t nearly as gloomy as the Forbidden Forest, but it was still giving Hermione the creeps. She was glad when Harry and Ginny fell back, insisting she walk ahead of them. Somehow, bringing up the rear was more than her shaky nerves could handle just then.

They’d been walking for at least an hour, and Hermione was idly trying to figure out how much time had passed, and how long Draco had left. The hands of her watch kept spinning at random, and settling on different times, so she had absolutely no idea if it was already too late. It felt like they had left Hogwarts hours ago, and they’d already wasted three of their twenty four in the library before that. She was drawn out of her anxious musings by a shrill, very unmanly scream from further up the path, quickly followed by an answering shriek from Melody. She looked up to see Ron flailing around, batting at his hair, which had somehow turned black and puffy, while Melody, Luna and Neville frantically tried to hold him still.

“Don’t hit it, Ron! Don’t hit it! Purrantulas are perfectly friendly unless you provoke them!” Luna was saying.

“What the fuck is a...did she say purrantula?” Harry muttered in Hermione’s ear, coming up behind her.

“No idea,” Hermione replied, shrugging uncertainly as they rushed toward the others. When she got closer, she realized that it wasn’t Ron’s hair that was black. Something large, black, and furry was clinging to his head. It had pointed ears, at least four large, green, cat-like eyes, and...”Oh Merlin...is that a spider or a cat?!” Eight long, knobbly legs, each ending in a fuzzy paw, were waving about as the red-haired wizard spun, and jumped about, trying to shake the creature off.

“Don’t hurt her!!!” Luna shouted. Raising her wand, she yelled, “ _Incarcerous_!”

Ron was immediately bound in silvery ropes, which stopped him from trying to hit the...spider? Cat? The ropes did not stop his hysterical screams. “Get it off! Get it off me! Kill. It. With. Fire!!!” he begged, locking eyes with Hermione, who was slightly inclined to obey.

“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Luna scolded. “I told you, things here aren’t quite what they appear. Purrantulas are quite friendly. They tend to bond with one fairy...or human...for life, and they can be very handy to have around...they’ll get rid of all sorts of pests; insects, mice, sometimes even gnomes and doxies. You’re very lucky...this one seems to like you.” She slowly reached up, holding the back of her hand toward the... _thing_ on Ron’s head, which cocked its head, and sniffed her cautiously before allowing itself to be removed. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.” Luna held up her hands, revealing a nightmarish amalgamation of cat _and_ spider. About the size of a basketball, the thing’s body was in two sections, much like a spider. Its head slightly resembled a cat’s, what with the pointed ears and green, slitted eyes...but it had far too many eyes...they were scattered all around the main set of four at the front of its head, seemingly at random. Several smaller pairs kept popping open at odd intervals from within its thick, black fur. Instead of a cat’s whiskery muzzle, it had a spider’s pincer-like jaws sticking out from below it’s pink, feline nose. And while it did have cute little pink pads on the bottoms of its large, furry paws, the fact that it had eight of said paws (which were also adorned with very sharp looking silver claws) quite definitively cancelled out whatever non-terrifying factor the ‘toe-beans’ (as Hermione liked to call Crookshanks’ paw pads) might otherwise have granted it. Hermione wasn’t normally afraid of spiders, and Merlin knew she loved cats, but this thing...

“Nope.” The word left her lips before she knew she was going to speak. “That’s just...no. _No_ , Luna.” She said more firmly as the blonde hugged the little nightmare to her chest. “It cannot come with us.”

Luna’s face fell as the others murmured in agreement with Hermione. Harry had quietly released Ron from his bonds, and the redhaired wizard was unabashedly hiding behind Neville, who looked a bit like he might vomit. “She could be a valuable ally here, you guys. These woods are full of dangerous creatures-” As she spoke, a bright pink, dimly glowing moth-like insect fluttered up to her. The creature in her arms hissed, then snatched it out of the air with its two inch long pincers, eliciting horrified gasps from most of the group. Apparently, unlike spiders, it could chew and swallow, because it demonstrated the ability rather loudly, while Luna smiled triumphantly, and exclaimed, “See?!”

“Luna, honey, we don’t have time for you to channel Hagrid. You can’t pick up every questionably cute stray you come across. We’re here to save Narcissa Malfoy, and get the hell out of here, remember?” Neville reminded her, gently grasping her shoulders, although it clearly pained him to get that close to the creature in her arms. “Just leave it. It’ll be fine, this is its natural habitat, right?”

Luna visibly wilted, but sighed, and walked over to a low-hanging branch nearby, setting the little abomination in a natural crook between two prongs of the branch. “Sorry, Purrscilla. I guess you can’t come. Maybe I’ll see you again someday.”

Hermione choked back a wild laugh at the name Luna had given the creature. Judging by the sounds Harry and Ginny made, she wasn’t the only one on the verge of hysterics.

“Right, then...” Harry said in a strained voice. Patting Ron on the shoulder sympathetically, he said. “Let’s keep going, shall we? We’ve got about seventeen hours left, I reckon. We need to hurry.” Turning to Luna, who was now pouting, he asked, “How far is this village, or...whatever?”

“Just over that hill...” Luna murmured, pointing after looking around thoughtfully.

Hermione could just make out a faint path leading up the side of a nearby hill. It seemed like the trees were thinning out, but the sky was also growing darker, so the overall level of light had decreased since they’d arrived in the Fae realm. “I thought we still had more like...twelve or thirteen hours?” She mumbled uncertainly as they began trudging up the hill. “We left about seven or eight hours ago, right?” She really wished she had stayed awake during the fall down the ‘rabbit hole’ so she could judge a little more accurately.

“I thought we’d only been gone for about six hours?” Ginny said.

“We’ve been gone at least nine hours already...” Neville and Harry countered in unison.

“Maybe five...” Melody mumbled.

“Okay, so obviously time is as messed up as everything else here?” Ron asked, looking back over his shoulder, and shuddering. Hermione looked back too, and could just make out a faint black speck in the tree where Luna had left Purrscilla.

Luna shook her head slightly, and raised her right arm. Her sleeve fell back, revealing a shimmering purple band. “My mum gave me this watch when I was small...it works even here in the Fae realm. Only about four and a half hours have passed back in our world since we left. They probably won’t even be worried about us yet.”

Hermione felt a moment of relief, then it hit her...they _should_ be worried.

Obviously having a similar though, Harry stopped in his tracks, and they both slapped their foreheads. “ _Fuck_!” Harry cursed, shooting her a horrified look. “We’re so stupid!”

“They don’t know where we are!” Hermione exclaimed miserably. “How could we forget?!”

“We never sent the patronus!” Ginny groaned, immediately catching on.

“Bloody hell...” Neville moaned, rubbing his forehead.

“Shite! I never should have agreed to come here!” Ron grumbled, kicking at a clump of dirt, which promptly got up, and stomped away, muttering indignantly. “Augh!” Ron screamed, jumping back, and almost falling over what may or may not have been a tree stump.

“We’re gonna die!” Melody wailed. “And no one will even find our bodies!” For once, Hermione found herself sympathizing with the other witch. She’d felt the same fear the girl was now experiencing several times since she’d befriended Harry and Ron. However, she’d learned to have a certain amount of faith in their little group.

“Nah,” she murmured as soothingly as she could manage (she still disliked the American, after all). “I’m sure someone will find us eventually.” Okay, so that wasn’t very comforting at all, but she hadn’t necessarily meant to imply that she agreed they were going to die.

“Dammit, ‘Mione!” Ron complained as Melody broke down in tears, burying her face against his shoulder. “She’s kidding, Mel. Mostly. We’re probably not going to die here.” His attempts at comforting the other girl were no more convincing than Hermione’s, but for some reason seemed to do the trick. Melody soon pulled herself together, though she remained snuggled up to the redhead.

“Well, the portal might have closed by now, but we should at least _try_ sending a patronus, just in case,” Harry suggested. No one argued, or moved to do it, so he shrugged, and muttered, “Alright then, guess it’s on me...” He glanced at Ginny, then closed his eyes for a moment before bellowing, “ _Expecto Patronum_!” He’d always had a fairly impressive patronus, but this time it was larger and brighter than ever before. Having caught the little sideways glance he had given Ginny right before casting the charm, Hermione smiled to herself, suspecting that he had some new and improved happy memories to power the spell. After whispering in the stag’s ear, Harry stepped back, and they all watched as it galloped back along the path toward the portal.

On a whim, Hermione pulled out her own wand, conjured up her familiar otter patronus, and beckoned it closer. “Give Draco this message for me: I’m coming back soon, and everything is going to be alright!” she ordered the shimmery form, which immediately swam off through the air after Harry’s stag. When she looked around, Harry was giving her an odd look. “What? I just thought if he wakes up, or has another episode, hearing my voice might help,” she explained, blushing.

“Good idea,” Harry replied, smiling sympathetically, and patting her on the back.

They watched the two glowing figures until they disappeared between the trees. Melody stepped up beside them, cocking her head to one side. “I didn’t think a patronus made a sound.”

“They don’t,” Hermione managed to keep her tone level and non-judgemental. The girl had already admitted she couldn’t cast a fully corporeal patronus, so how would she know what they were like?

“I can hear Harry’s galloping. Can’t you?” Melody asked, pointing in the direction the stag had gone.

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, then realized that she, too, could hear the pounding of hooves somewhere not too far off. “What is that?” It couldn’t be Harry’s patronus, but there was definitely something with hooves in the area, and it sounded like whatever it was, it was getting closer.

“Oh shit!” Luna gasped. Everyone turned to stare at her, shocked by her language. “It’s a unicorn!” she exclaimed, flailing her arms.

“A unicorn?” Ginny asked, blinking confusedly. “What’s wrong with unicorns?”

“There’s nothing wrong with them. They’re lovely creatures, _back home_ ,” Luna explained hurriedly. “But something about the Fae realm...they get trapped here sometimes, and it changes them. For the worse. Come on, we need to get to the village before it notices us.” With this vague and ominous warning, the blonde witch turned, and began rushing up the path. “And be quiet! They have excellent hearing!”

Due to their experience sneaking around while hunting Horcruxes the previous year, Harry, Ron and Hermione managed to follow her order to the letter...quickly, and almost silently, making their way up the hillside without incident. Luna also darted between the trees without making a sound. The others, however, sounded like a drunken bugbear on  rampage; shuffling through patches of dried leaves, stepping on dried twigs, and generally making a horrible racket. The distant hoofbeats soon sped up, drawing unmistakably nearer.

“I think it heard us,” Ron stated unnecessarily.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Hermione muttered. Turning to Luna, she asked, “What do we do?!”

“Climb a tree!” Luna ordered quietly. “If you can’t climb, get someone to levitate you...just get in the trees! At least twenty feet up!”

Twenty feet seemed rather high, but no one argued, convinced by the blonde’s unusually serious tone. It quickly became obvious that while Harry, Ron, Melody and Ginny had no difficulty climbing up the thick trunks of the surrounding trees, the less athletic, non-Quidditch players in the group were having trouble. Neville managed to levitate Luna high enough for Harry to reach down, and pull her onto the same thick branch he had taken shelter on, but this seemed to tap the brunet wizard’s magic. “Sorry, ‘Mione...” he panted, shrugging sheepishly as the hoofbeats approached.

“No problem...I’ve got it.” Hermione smiled understandingly. “ _Levicorpus_ !” she exclaimed, waving her wand at him. She quickly grabbed onto his arm just as her spell took hold, lifting them both high in the air just as the unicorn charged into sight. She had a quick, horrifying glimpse before reaching the lower branches, which obscured her view. She couldn’t honestly say she was sorry not to have seen more. The otherwise beautiful animal’s thick, pearly horn had come unwound, revealing that it was not a horn at all, but two tapered white tentacle-like tubes that had previously been twisted around each other. This was not as disturbing as the long, sharp spike at their center, which was a glistening blood red, even in the fading twilight. Hermione didn’t want to think about _why_ it was that color.

“Holy shit...did you see that?” Neville muttered as he snagged a sturdy-looking branch on their way past, and helped her climb on. “What the hell?”

“They drink blood here. Through those tubes...they work like straws, or perhaps an elephant’s nose is a better analogy,” Luna explained calmly. “They use the spike-”

“I think we get it, Lu!” Neville interrupted quickly. “Thanks.”

Any attempts at further conversation were cut off when the unicorn reached the base of the cluster of trees they were hiding in, and let out an angry screech. To almost everyone’s surprise, it launched itself into the air, managing to slice through a branch only three or four feet below with its spike.

“Merlin!” Ron gasped. “Are we up high enough?”

“We should be,” Luna whispered as the unicorn snorted frustratedly, and tried again. This time, it speared a thicker branch, two feet directly below Harry, and had to struggle for a moment to free its spike before dropping gracefully back to the forest floor. After that, it jumped a few more times, each leap less impressive than the last as it wore itself out. Finally, it reared up and clawed furiously at the trunk of one tree with its hooves, scraping away a large patch of bark before whirling around, and galloping off in the direction from which it had come.

“Alright, we don’t have long...it’ll come back with the rest of the herd,” Luna said, already scrambling out of the tree. “Come on...the village isn’t far at all...” she urged. “I can’t wait to see it again!” She bounced up and down, clapping her hands as she waited for the others to climb down.

Despite her insistence that they were close, there were no signs of humanoid life visible from the top of the hill. After peering into the distance in every direction, the blonde finally turned to face the group, letting out a resigned sigh as her shoulders slumped. “It...well...it seems they may have moved since I was last here,” she murmured reluctantly. Turning to Hermione, she whispered, “I’m so sorry...I have no idea where they might be now.”

Hermione had barely registered her friend’s words when she stiffened, then doubled over, gasping as pain lanced through her body. It felt like she’d been stabbed just below her ribcage, and for a moment she thought the unicorn had returned, and snuck up on them somehow. A quick, confused glance downward showed no visible injury, but the pain radiated outward through her entire torso, taking her breath away. Lack of oxygen soon caused black spots to appear in her vision. She was vaguely aware of Harry and Neville grasping her arms, and gently lowering her to the ground, their worried voices muffled by the sound of her own racing pulse, which was pounding in her ears, as if she were inside a large drum. “I think she’s having a panic attack,” Harry said.

 _No_. Well, yes, she was, but it was only because of whatever was happening to her. She opened her mouth to let him know this, but all she could get out was a pained whimper.

“Hermione?” To her surprise, Melody’s voice came from close by, as if the other girl was crouched or kneeling beside her, but she couldn’t see her. For a moment, she was afraid she had gone blind, then realized she’d closed her eyes, and possibly even blacked out for a second. “I’m just gonna cast a diagnostic spell on you, okay? It shouldn’t hurt...” Hermione felt nothing, but a moment later, Melody’s confused voice said, “It says there’s nothing wrong with her.”

“Well, obviously there’s _something_ wrong,” Harry shot back. “Are you sure you did it correctly?”

“Of course she’s sure!” Ron said, sounding a bit irritated. “Right, Mel?”

“Yeah I did. Why is she acting like this if she’s not injured?” Melody’s tone sounded a little suspicious, and Hermione felt a flare of irritation. Was the other girl seriously implying Hermione was faking? She tried again to speak, wanting to tell her off, but she still couldn’t get out more than a croaky sort of groan.

“I think Harry was right the first time,” Ginny chimed in. “I think she’s having a panic attack. You know...because now we have no way to save Draco.”

“Nnnnnnno,” Hermione moaned. It seemed like the pain was letting up a bit, but she still couldn’t draw a deep breath. “Owwwww.” She somehow managed to roll onto her left side, which did alleviate the pain slightly.

“Where does it hurt, ‘Mione?” Neville asked quietly. She could feel someone rubbing her back, between her shoulder blades, and it seemed to be helping.

“Ri...” she tried. Giving up, she weakly moved her hand just to the side of her solar plexus.

There was a pause, then Melody said, “I still can’t find anything physically wrong with her.” Hermione grunted irritably. “I’m just saying you don’t have any _physical_ injuries, Hermione. Were you hit by some sort of spell, maybe?” It sounded like the American actually did believe that something was wrong, and Hermione felt a bit mollified...even more so when she realized it was Melody who was rubbing her back.

“Are you sure you’re not having a panic attack, ‘Mi?” Harry asked gently.

Hermione was now feeling well enough to raise her head far enough to glare at him over Neville’s shoulder.

“I’d say that’s a no on the panic attack,” Ginny observed dryly. “What do we do?”

“I could try sending a Patronus to Madam Pomfrey?” Harry suggested.

“We don’t even know if the last one got through,” Ron pointed out, sounding worried.

“Do it,” Melody ordered firmly. For once Hermione didn’t object to the other witch’s bossy tone. She let her head fall back, and closed her eyes, gritting her teeth to keep from moaning.

She heard Harry cast the spell, and could make out the glow of his patronus through her tightly closed eyelids. The glow had barely faded away when it began to increase again. “Whoa...that was fast,” Neville mumbled.

“They can’t have received the one I just sent...I can still see it, way over there...see?” Harry replied, sounding confused. “It’s Professor McGonagall’s patronus...”

The Headmistress’ distraught voice came from close by a moment later. “ _You need to return immediately. Narcissa’s changeling just killed herself, and in doing so has gravely injured Draco through her link with him. There is nothing more we can do for him_ . _I’m so sorry...perhaps if you hurry, you can say good-bye_.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't hurt me. lol
> 
> (Edited 2/26/16 to fix their guesses on how long they've been gone and how much time is left because I suck at math. lol They need to be back by 9am, left the castle at about 12:30pm, and I figure they fell for about three hours, walked about two hours in the Forbidden Forest and another hour and a half in the Fae realm. It's a long fall. And no, Luna's answer doesn't add up, but that is on purpose).


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...this chapter explains the ridonkulous tag. It's also the saddest chapter in the story. Because it's so awful, I'm going to try to get the last chapter up today, too. My muse might be mean, but I swear I'm not!

In the stunned silence that followed the Headmistress’ announcement, Hermione began to cry, choking on silent, heart-broken sobs. If the monster that had killed Draco wasn’t already dead, she would gladly torture it within an inch of its life. 

“Oh Merlin!” Ginny gasped. “Poor Draco. Poor Hermione...”

“She felt it...Draco’s dying, and ‘Mione felt it!” Ron mumbled dazedly. Hermione was mildly surprised that he had made the connection before she had, but realized he was right. The thought that Draco was dying in so much pain made her sob even harder.

“They’re soulmates,” Luna murmured sadly. “I always wondered...their auras are so similar.”

“We have to get her back,” Harry growled. “You heard McGonagall. We have to get her back to him.”

There was a bit of shuffling around and whispering, and then Hermione realized she was floating in midair. Too depressed to even open her eyes, she just wrapped her arms tightly around her midsection, and concentrated on Draco, trying to will him to hold on until she could get to him. It took a while for the pain in her chest to ease up, but once it did, she immediately felt like she was going to vomit. She pried open her eyes, and looked around frantically. It was night, and she wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but they were still somewhere in the forest. She could see the back of Melody’s head in front of her, and when she twisted around, she found Ginny walking behind her. “Hey...” the redhead murmured sadly when she noticed Hermione looking at her. “Guys...wait...”

“Lemme down,” Hermione requested. “Lemme down...gonna be sick...”

Ginny waved her wand, and Hermione was gently lowered to her feet. She promptly bent over some nearby bushes, and threw up. Ginny helpfully held her hair out of her face and rubbed her back until she was finished. “Are you...well...okay obviously isn’t the right word. Did you hear?”

Hermione’s eyes welled with tears, and she nodded silently, not wanting to talk about it.

“Okay, well, we’re on our way back.” Ginny said. She was probably aiming for a comforting tone, but she sounded as hopeless as Hermione felt. 

“Hey, guys...um...we have a problem!!!” Luna’s voice called out from further up the path.

“Don’t we always...”  Harry muttered from somewhere behind Ginny. Hermione frowned up at the sky, noticing that the moon had disappeared behind a heavy bank of clouds. Even though the trees were slightly luminescent, their dim glow wasn’t bright enough to see much. “What now?”

“Ron’s been bitten,” Luna replied, sounding more anxious than Hermione had ever heard her.

“By what?” Harry called back, brushing past Hermione and Ginny. “ _ Lumos _ !” 

“No Harry!” Luna yelped. “You’ll attract more of them! Put it out!”

“Attract more of what?” Melody asked nervously as Harry quickly extinguished his wand. 

“ _ Heeeeeeehaaaaaaaaw! _ ” a loud braying noise suddenly had everyone, Hermione included, scrambling for their wands.

“Was that a donkey?” Neville whispered. “Are we being attacked by donkeys?!”

“That’s  _ Ron _ ,” Luna whispered back. “I told you, he was bitten...”

“By a weredonkey? Are weredonkeys a thing?!” Ginny whispered as she and Hermione moved to stand back to back, in the defensive position Harry had drilled into them back in their DA days. 

“No...he was bitten by...ugh...what did Mum call them? A fattie nather?. Or was it father nathra? I’m afraid I don’t remember,” Luna murmured. “I haven’t seen one in eight years!”

“Are you drunk?” Melody asked scornfully, followed by, “Ow!” and a brief scuffling sound.

“Oh dear...” Luna moaned. “Melody?”

The only response was a loud, “ _ Heeeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaaaaaaw _ !”

“Shit! Was that Melody?!” Harry gasped. “Ouch! Hey...wha-  _ heeeeeeeeeeeeeyaaaaaaaaaaaaaaw _ !”

“Harry!” Ginny screamed. “ _ Incendio _ !” She shouted, sending a large fireball in the direction the most recent braying had come from. As it passed, it illuminated three small donkeys, who were all frantically bucking, rearing, and trying to kick at nothing. A few small specks in the air around them glowed pink as as the fireball passed, but immediately vanished when the spell was suddenly extinguished.

“ _ Finite Incantum _ ! Don’t do that!” Luna yelled. “You don’t want to hit Melody and the boys, and the Fae will be really miffed if we start a fire! These trees are sacred!”

“What do we do then? Stand around and wait to get...donkified?” Ginny demanded impatiently.

“ _ Kreeeeooooow _ !” A new sound, a sort of croaky meow sounded off in the distance, followed by an angry hiss. 

“Oh thank Merlin!” Luna exclaimed, accompanied by the sound of her hands clapping. “Purrscilla! Over here! Ouch! Oh de- _ heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-awwwwwwwwwww _ !”

“ _ Luna _ !!” Neville bellowed. 

“Oh shit...she’s the only one who knows how to get out of here!” Ginny squealed, obviously giving in to panic.

“ _ Kreeeeeooooow _ !” The purrantula must have followed them, Hermione realized. It sounded much closer now, and judging by the increasingly loud thrashing sounds was either attacking whatever had turned their friends into donkeys, or was being attacked by the donkeys itself. Unfortunately, it sounded more like the latter. 

“Guys, leave it alone...I think it’s helping!” she ordered. The scuffling sounds didn’t die down, and she desperately whispered, “ _ Lumos Minima _ !” in a last ditch effort to figure out what the hell was going on. Immediately, a fluttering pink form whizzed toward her, glowing faintly, though she’d swear it hadn’t been illuminated until she lit her wand. She recognized it as the same sort of moth the purrantula had eaten earlier. “It’s the moths! The moths are doing it!” she warned Ginny and Neville. “ _ Stupefy _ !” She blasted the moth out of the air before it could reach her, but more were appearing all around them.

“Bloody hell...what a stupid way to die...” Neville grumbled as he, Ginny, and Hermione formed a defensive triangle.

“The others aren’t dead, they’re just donkeys...” Hermione pointed out, stunning another moth that came too close for comfort.

“My  _ girlfriend _ is a  _ donkey _ ,” Neville whined. 

“At least she’s still alive...” Hermione muttered, feeling a bit bitter in light of recent events. 

“Sorry,” Neville murmured ruefully. “But...what am I supposed to do with a donkey for a girlfriend?”

“Ewww...” Ginny groaned. “Do you think it’s reversible?”

“Let’s worry about that if we get out of here on two feet?” Hermione suggested. By the dim light still issuing from her wand, she could see the purrantula and their...donkified (for lack of a better word) friends knocking the moths from midair. The purrantula was eating her victims, but the donkeys were content to stomp them to bits on the rocky forest floor. They had killed at least a dozen, but more were coming to replace each one that fell. 

“Ow! Shit...sorry guy... _ heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-awwwwwwww _ !” Ginny’s voice cut out in a harsh bray, and Hermione felt the empty air where her friend’s shoulder had previously been pressed against her own. Something brushed past her thigh as the newly donkiefied redhead rushed toward the others.

“Let’s go to the Fae realm and save Draco, they said. It’ll be fun, they said...” Neville was muttering under his breath while knocking moths from the sky with non-verbal stunning spells. Harry would have been proud, if he wasn’t a donkey. 

“Sorry!” Hermione gasped breathlessly as another swarm of moths approached through the trees. They were definitely screwed. Ignoring Luna’s earlier warning, she shouted, “ _ Incendio _ !” and reduced the newcomers to ash. “There are too many!” she exclaimed as even more appeared at the edge of the ring of light cast by her wand.

“Maybe if you had listened to my great-granddaughter, you wouldn’t have attracted the entire population of the Realm...” an impatient female voice stated dryly from somewhere beyond Neville. “ _ Nox _ !” The stranger barked. The light at the end of Hermione’s wand went out plunging everything into darkness once more. Even the trees stopped glowing.

“Who are you?!” Neville growled, protectively placing his free hand on Hermione’s arm as she continued to cast stunning spells into the darkness. 

“Oh, enough already!” the woman muttered. “Go home! It’s past your bedtimes!” Hermione couldn’t see anything, but apparently the donkeys had better night vision, because moments later, the thrashing and stomping noises stopped, and she could tell they were gathering around them. “Much better. Now...Luna? Where are you, dear?” One of the donkeys brushed against Hermione’s leg, moving toward the woman’s voice. 

Deciding the moth threat must have passed, Hermione slowly turned around, clinging to Neville’s arm, afraid to lose him in the dark, but also wary of trying to cast another ‘ _ Lumos _ ’ in the strange woman’s presence. “Who are you?” she asked cautiously, squinting into the impenetrable darkness. 

There was an impatient huff, then, “Well, I see why you weren’t put in Ravenclaw with my Luna. I already told you...I’m her great-grandmother. You may call me Shayla.” One of the other donkeys brayed softly, and the woman let out a surprised huff. “Oh...Melody, dear...it’s lovely to finally meet you! You look nothing like your father.”

“Probably because he’s not a donkey...” Neville muttered sarcastically. Hermione gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze, biting back the nervous laugh that threatened to burst free. She had a feeling Shayla wouldn’t look kindly upon inappropriate laughter. 

The Luna donkey suddenly began making frantic braying and snorting sounds, emphasising whatever she was saying with an occasional stamp of her hoof. “Oh! Well, that explains a lot. Why didn’t you say so?!” Shayla said, sounding startled. “Your soulmate was killed by one of our distant kin?”

It took Hermione a moment to realize that the woman was addressing  _ her _ , and even longer for the meaning of her words to sink in. “You’re a Fae?!” she blurted, taking a half step back, and trying to pull Neville with her. It might have been naive, but she’d actually thought they’d managed to run into a fellow human.

“I believe the appropriate answer is, ‘Duh...’” Shayla replied, sounding amused. “Half-Fae, actually. My mother was human, but chose to live here with my father.”

After another moment, Neville blurted, “So  _ Luna _ is part Fae?!”

“Surely that doesn’t surprise you?” Shayla asked, chuckling. Luna cut her off with an impatient snort. “Oh, yes...I’m sure you’ll have a long talk later. For now, we need to get  _ you _ back while there is still time.” Hermione could feel her moving in front of her. “Your soulmate needs you.”

“But he’s dead,” Hermione whispered miserably, knowing it was pointless to argue that Draco wasn’t her soulmate. He was...not that it mattered anymore. She didn’t need a message from McGonagall to tell her that he was gone...no matter what the Headmistress had said earlier about possibly having time to say good-bye, deep down she knew Draco was already dead, and had been from the moment that terrible pain had ripped through her. “Even if he wasn’t, we haven’t found his mother yet...”

“You don’t need his mother,” Shayla snorted scornfully. “You never did. I  _ will _ help your friends locate her; my kin have violated several of our laws in taking her. But, my dear,  _ you _ already have everything you need to save him...” She briefly patted Hermione’s chest, right over her heart. Clucking her tongue impatiently, she said, “You’ve wasted more than enough time already. I’m not really supposed to do this, but any friend of Luna’s is a friend of mine.” With that, she placed her hand on Hermione’s forehead. Her palm felt unusually cool, but before Hermione really had time to think about this, a blindingly white light emanated from from the spot where their skin made contact, forcing her to screw her eyes shut. “Go to him. Share your pain with him. That’s what he needs.”

“What?!” Hermione squeaked. The light behind her eyelids grew even brighter for a moment, then slowly faded away completely. Opening one eye a crack, Hermione gasped, and opened both eyes wide. The moon was shining down from overhead, illuminating a familiar fallen log in the middle of a bunch of trees. She was back in the Forbidden Forest! “What the hell am I supposed to do?!” she yelled in frustration, setting off a flurry of wings, which sounded both very large  _ and _ very close by. Realizing her mistake, she concentrated hard on the gates of Hogwarts, and turned on her heel, hoping Professor McGonagall had already instituted the new safety measure she had spoken of at the last prefect meeting. The headmistress planned to make it possible to disapparate from the Forbidden Forest, as several werewolves, vampires, ogres and other dangerous creatures were suspected to still be lurking there after the last battle in May. Unfortunately, it appeared the change to the anti-apparation wards hadn’t been made, as nothing happened. 

Closing her eyes, she tried one more time, without success. “This just figures...” she grumbled, looking around, and trying to remember which way they had come from earlier. Nothing looked familiar, and she couldn’t see the stars through the trees to try to orient herself...not that she was all that great at navigation when she had no idea where she was in relation to the school. If she had any idea which direction the castle was in, though... Getting an idea, she pulled out her wand, and muttered, “ _ Expecto Patronum _ !” She had thought to send her otter to Professor McGonagall, and then follow it out of the forest, but all that emerged from her wand was a weak sputter of silvery light, which quickly faded out. “Wonderful...” She’d been trying to stay calm, but a hiccuping sob rose in her chest, and she wasn’t able to hold it back. The moth attack (and didn’t that sound crazy?) had distracted her momentarily, but she found herself once again overwhelmed by her grief over Draco. Deciding to give herself just a minute to wallow before trying to find her way out of the forest, she slumped down on the log and buried her face in her hands. 

She’d expected to sob uncontrollably, but simply found herself sitting there with tears trickling down her cheeks as she thought about all the little moments she’d shared with Draco over the past week. She still couldn’t believe it had only been a week since they’d put aside their differences and become friends. Saving his life probably helped matters. Thinking about what Blaise and the others had done, she scowled, feeling the anger well up inside her all over again. However, thinking of them also reminded her that she still had her DA coin in her pocket. Giving herself a little mental slap on the forehead, she pulled it out and sent a thought to Neville. { _ Hey...small problem...I’m lost in the Forest and I can’t find my way out of here.} _

A moment later, the coin warmed in her hand. { _ Send a Patronus to McGonagall?} _

Sighing, she replied, { _ Tried that. It’s not working. Too sad... _ } 

There was no reply for a while after that, and she began to worry as she heard something rather loud crunching through the dead leaves littering the forest floor. Whatever it was seemed to be heading her way. She was just getting up to hide behind a tree, just in case, when the coin warmed up again. { _ Well, believe it or not, but Shayla thinks she knows where Narcissa Malfoy is. A bird told her there’s a blonde human with two half-Fae children living a few hours from here. We’re going to go check it out and then head back. We should be back by morning. Can you hide in a tree again or something?} _

Hermione frowned at the coin, and narrowed her eyes. { _ A few hours according to whom? I’m pretty sure Luna’s watch is wrong...it’s gotta be past curfew here already. ‘Only been gone four hours’ my arse... _ } she thought back. While she waited for his reply, she moved to a clump of bushes at the base of one of the trees, and crouched down. Whatever was coming sounded very close by.

About a minute later, the coin warmed up. “ _ Lumos minima _ ” she whispered, summoning the dimmest possible light from her wand so she could read Neville’s message.

{ _ Sorry. Apparently time runs the same here as it does there, human technology...including watches, just doesn’t work here, and Lu didn’t want you to worry about how long we’d been gone. Looks like none of us are very good judges of time. So...yeah...hopefully we’ll be back by morning. It’s kind of hard to get these guys to go where we want. I thought it was mules that were stubborn.} _

“Ugh!” Hermione grunted, then clapped her hand over her mouth when she heard a sharp intake of breath just beyond the tree she was crouched beside.

“Who goes there?” A deep, rumbling voice challenged. Fortunately, it was also a very familiar voice.

Hermione let out a huge sigh of relief, and scrambled out of the bush. “Professor! Thank the heavens...it’s me, Hermione Granger, sir.” She rounded the tree, and almost collided with Professor Firenze, who stepped back and stamped his hooves. 

“Ah, so you’re the one they sent me for,” he murmured a bit absentmindedly. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “Well, best not to tarry, child.” Hermione’s temper flared a bit at being called a child, but she bit her lip, deciding it was probably best not to argue with the notoriously temperamental Centaur about the fact that she was nineteen years old. She was glad she hadn’t provoked him when he continued. “I don’t normally allow it, but if what the stars are telling me is true, it is most important that you return to the castle as soon as possible.” To her astonishment, he bent his right front leg, and bowed down. “Allow me to carry you back.”

“Th-thank you,” she mumbled, blushing as she clumsily climbed onto his back. She wasn’t sure what the etiquette was regarding appropriate handholds when riding a Centaur. As far as she knew, the main rule of etiquette concerning the riding of Centaurs was  _ don’t do it _ . Deciding not to risk offending him, she held on as tightly as possible with her legs as he took off at a slow gallop, mentally thanking her parents for having invested in riding lessons when she was younger. Feeling awkward as they made their way back to the castle in silence, she finally asked, “H-how did Professor McGonagall know that I was back from the Fae realm?”

“Hmm?” Firenze murmured. “Oh, I don’t believe she does.”

Hermione frowned, “Then who sent you for me?”

“I told you...the stars guided me.” The Centaur let out a very horse-like snort. “You humans never listen.”

Hermione thought for a moment, and realized he  _ had _ already told her this. “What else did the stars tell you? You said that it’s important that I get back to the castle as soon as possible...” she hoped to appease him by showing that she  _ had _ heard his words even if she hadn’t fully understood their meaning.

Firenze’s steps slowed a bit, and he turned to look at her over his shoulder. “Do you really want to know? Sometimes knowing one’s fate can change it.”

“Yes,” Hermione replied, nodding after thinking it over for a moment. “Believe me, things cannot get much worse.”

“Never say that, child,” he hissed harshly, skidding to a halt. “The Fates are not a joke, and you don’t want to tempt them.”

“S-sorry...it’s just...I think it might be too late already,” Hermione stammered. “I  _ was _ supposed to get back to the castle, yes, but...it’s too late,” she repeated lamely.

Firenze cocked his head to one side. “Your fate is unclear. The stars show that your other half has been lost to you, and yet, I also see that together, you will bring about the end of the hostilities between the Pureblood wizards and those of mixed and muggle blood. You’ve already set this in motion with your recent actions, but there is much left to be done.”

“He’s dead,” Hermione whispered hoarsely, her throat constricting as she fought back tears at the thought of everything she and Draco might have done if they’d had the chance. “He was killed tonight.”

“Perhaps I am still seeing what  _ should _ have been your fate. Sometimes it takes a while for the stars to let go of what can no longer be...” he looked up at the sky, and shook his head slightly. “They have hopes, just like the rest of us.” He began moving again, breaking into a gentle trot. “I  _ am _ sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Hermione whispered. She made no further effort to engage the Centaur in conversation, and he quickly made his way through the Forest, arriving back at the castle in less than half the time it had taken them to walk to the portal. She’d expected him to drop her off at the edge of the treeline, but he carried her all the way up to the front courtyard before dropping to his knee again.

“Best wishes, child,” he murmured as she slid to the ground. “May the Fates smile upon you.” He glanced up at the stars one more time, frowned a bit, shook his head, then turned and galloped away before she could thank him for bringing her back to the castle. 

“Were you just riding a Centaur?!” One of the Ravenclaw prefects, a sixth year muggleborn named Samantha asked from a spot in the shadows just beside the front doors. Hermione didn’t know her very well, but she was undeniably relieved to see another familiar face. “I thought we weren’t allowed to do that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you!” Hermione blurted, pushing the door open, and rushing inside, only realizing after the fact that the other witch had been smoking a cigarette  _ and _ out of bed after curfew. “Ugh...whatever...” Shrugging it off, she ran for the hospital wing. Heart pounding, she raced upstairs to the infirmary. 

When she came to the familiar double doors, she stopped in her tracks, placing her hand on one of the doors. Draco was inside, but he was  _ dead _ . “I can’t...” she whimpered, blinking back tears. After everything that had happened, she couldn’t bear to see him...not like  _ that _ . Choking back a sob, she whirled around, and found herself face to face with the Bloody Baron. Jumping back in surprise (and mild disgust) she accidentally slammed into one of the doors, causing it to rattle loudly on it’s hinges. She and the resident Slytherin ghost blinked at each other for a moment, the ghost’s expression a smidge less hostile than it had been in years past. 

“It’s about time,” he muttered after a minute or so, his deep, grating voice sending a chill up her spine. It brought to mind an image of blocks of ice grinding against each other in a half frozen lake, and Hermione tried to edge further away from him.

“What?” Hermione asked, shaking her head in confusion. 

“‘You _ are _ Hermione Granger, correct?” the Baron asked with the air of someone speaking to a mental incompetent.

Hermione suddenly wondered if Professor Snape had modeled both his tone and manner after his house’s ghost. “Yes?” Damn, she didn’t mean for that to sound like a question.

“He has been calling for you for over an hour,” the Baron replied flatly, gesturing impatiently toward the door behind her. “It’s pitiful.” 

“He who?” Hermione frowned, then blinked. “Draco?!”

The ghost sniffed scornfully. “I can see why you didn’t end up with Rowena...” Shaking his head slightly, he glided past her, disappearing through the wall beside the door. 

“I bet she wasn’t too fond of  _ you _ ...” Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes behind his back. Taking a deep breath, and smoothing down her clothing, she pushed the doors open, and stepped inside. 

After speaking with the Baron, she’d expected bright lights and a bit of commotion. She’d thought Madam Pomfrey would be hovering around her critically ill patient, casting spells and frantically administering potions. At the very least, she’d expected said patient to be...well... _calling for_ _her_. He wasn’t supposed to be lying motionless in the far corner of an empty, dimly lit room (the only light source was an oil lamp on a small table outside Madam Pomfrey’s darkened office). He shouldn’t be completely covered with a plain white sheet. 

How could he breathe like that? 

“Draco?” Her voice sounded pathetic, even to her. Getting no response, she took a few steps closer. “Draco?”

“Hmm...you can’t see him either. Figures. The others couldn’t, but I thought maybe Pomfrey had learned to tune them out over the years.” The Baron’s voice made her jump a mile. Whirling, she found him leaning casually against nothing, a foot away from the wall. “He must be too weak to make himself heard,” he spit out the words, sneering in disgust.

“You’re horrible!” Hermione hissed. “You told me he was alive!”

“I said no such thing. I merely informed you that he has been calling for you, and he  _ has _ . Incessantly, I might add...for the last hour or so. Ever since he left his body.” The Baron smirked slightly as he gestured toward one of the windows. “He’s over there, but I suppose you’ll have your little meltdown by his shell...” he gestured toward the cloth covered form on the bed at the far end of the room. “That’s the part most people seem to care about.”

Eyes burning, Hermione blinked rapidly, not wanting to cry in front of him. “You’re horrible,” she repeated flatly. “Please leave.” She barely noted his disinterested shrug as she picked up the lamp and slowly walked toward the bed, staring hard at the window he had indicated, but seeing nothing there, except her own pale reflection. Stopping beside Draco’s bed, she set the lamp on the nightstand and stared at the sheet for almost a minute, sighing when there was no movement to suggest even the tiniest of breaths. “Oh, Draco,” she whimpered, yanking the cloth from his face. She’d half expected him to appear frightened, or in pain, but he could have been asleep. His expression was far more peaceful and at ease than it had been in days. It was the same expression she’d seen on her grandmother’s face after she had passed away following a long, painful battle with lung cancer when Hermione was seven. Somehow, seeing that expression on Draco’s face was more jarring than if he’d still looked like he had while being tormented by the changeling.  _ That  _ expression made his death finally seem real.

Whatever inside her had been (however ineffectively) holding back her grief finally snapped completely. A ragged sob broke free as she flopped down on the bed beside him, burying her face against his shoulder, and breaking down in tears. His skin felt cool through the thin material of his pajamas, reminding her of Shayla, who had lied to her, just like the Baron, and even McGonagall. Like she’d told Firenze; stubborn stars to the contrary, it was too late to help him. If only the other story they’d once told could have been true...

“No...no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen! Please!” She wasn’t even sure who she was addressing, but there was no response, not that she expected one. The shoulder of Draco’s shirt was soaked with her tears when she finally raised her head to look at him again. “This wasn’t supposed to happen!” She growled angrily into the empty room. “We were supposed to go to a movie together! He was going to meet my mum and dad. We were supposed to be...” She trailed off, not really wanting to define what they were becoming to each other. Turning back to Draco, she whispered, “I was supposed to save you...” before lowering her head back onto his shoulder, overwhelmed by a new wave of tears. Outside the windows, she heard the wind pick up as rain began pattering against the glass. As she cried herself to sleep, it occurred to her that the wailing wind made it sound like the sky was mourning Draco with her. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry! So sorry...


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SO sorry this took so long. I got sick the other day and yesterday I realized it still needed a bit of work and I couldn't get it finished before I had to go to bed last night. I think I managed to tie up all the loose ends or at least hint that they will be tied up. You'll have to use your imagination on a few things. But not on Donkey Harry, because I actually found a picture of him and will include it at the end. ;-)

“I don’t know...I just found her here...she must have slipped in after I went to bed.” Madam Pomfrey’s voice roused her from an odd slumber. Completely exhausted, she had slept deeply, but dreamed repeatedly about Draco, which was unsurprising. However, instead of the nightmares she would have expected if she had given it any thought at all, she’d had happy dreams about picnics (blissfully uninterrupted by murder attempts), and long, leisurely walks around the lake. One took place in the rear row of seats in a darkened muggle movie theater; though there was no actual movie watching going on. Given that she remembered immediately upon waking that Draco was gone, it felt like her unconscious mind had just slapped her in the face, cruelly rubbing in her face all that she had lost. The realization that she was lying in bed next to Draco’s _corpse_ had her on her feet in less than a second, staring down at the rumpled dent in the sheet beside him where she’d spent the night. He hadn’t moved at all, of course, the left sleeve of his pajamas was badly wrinkled, and the left side of his chest was damp. She wondered briefly if she had cried in her sleep.

“Oh gods...” she moaned, swiping uselessly at the half dried material with her hand, feeling it was urgent that she at least dry him off. He shouldn’t be all...mussed, because of her.

“It’s alright, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall’s voice from nearby startled her. She had barely registered that Madam Pomfrey had been talking to someone else in the room. The older witch smiled weakly, her eyes brimming with tears, and held her arms open invitingly as Hermione turned toward her. Hermione didn’t hesitate before flinging herself into the Headmistress’ embrace, and bursting into fresh tears. “I know. I know sweetheart. I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t get to say goodbye,” Hermione muttered reproachfully, though she wasn’t sure if she was upset at the Headmistress for giving her hope that it was possible, or with herself for not having been here in the first place. “It was all for nothing!”

“Of course it wasn’t for nothing!” Madam Pomfrey’s snapped, her tone heated. “You _tried_ , when not many people would have. You made others care what happened to him, too, and he knew that. And whatever you said with that Patronus, he heard it. He smiled, and he died at peace, despite everything _she_ did to him. So, no, your efforts were not for nothing. It meant something to _him_.” The Matron gestured sadly at Draco, then moved to replace the sheet. Hermione watched tearfully as she started to pull the cloth back up over his face. “Hmm...” Madam Pomfrey dropped the sheet, and moved closer to the bed, partially blocking the body from view. Judging by the movement of her right arm, she had drawn her wand from her apron, and was waving it over the bed.

“Poppy?” Professor McGonagall murmured after several seconds had passed. Her voice sounded strained. “What are you doing?”

“Minerva...” Madam Pomfrey stood, and turned around, looking pale. “Will you cast a standard diagnostic on M-Mr. Malfoy?”

“What?” Professor McGonagall asked sharply, stepping away from Hermione, whose heart had started beating wildly for what seemed like the millionth time in the last week. Was she too young to have a heart attack? “Why? Poppy...” she gestured slowly at Hermione with her head. “We already went through this last night,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Do. It. Again,” Madam Pomfrey shot back. “I need confirmation...” She shook her head dazedly. When Professor McGonagall still didn’t move, she raised her voice, almost shouting, “For Merlin’s sake, Minerva, just do it. The boy is warm, and it would appear he has a pulse!”

Hermione’s eyes almost fell out of her head, and she plopped down on the floor as her knees turned to mush. McGonagall let out a very undignified squeak, then rushed toward the bed, and practically shoved Madam Pomfrey aside as she began waving her wand over Draco’s still form. Hermione slowly turned her gaze to the nurse, who was watching with her hands clasped together, apparently holding her breath while the Headmistress worked. Hermione was afraid to say anything. If she was still dreaming (which she was quite sure she was), she didn’t want to wake up yet.

After a minute that felt like days, Professor McGonagall let out a long breath, and stepped away from the bed. “I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I,” Madam Pomfrey said, dazedly shaking her head. “It’s not possible. You saw the results last night...” She blinked, and gestured toward Draco’s torso. “He’s breathing! I’ve never seen anything like this...he _can’t_ be breathing.”

Hermione sucked in a breath, her lungs burning as she took in much needed oxygen. She hadn’t even realized _she’d_ stopped breathing. “Are...are you saying...”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Madam Pomfrey admitted, shrugging helplessly. “Last night, he had some sort of seizure, and stopped breathing. I ran a diagnostic spell, which showed that his ‘arca medeis,’ the core, for lack of a better word, which contains a witch or wizard’s magical energy, had been badly ruptured.” As she explained, she pointed at her own ribcage, exactly where Hermione’s pain had been the night before. “His heart had stopped...he had no pulse...he was _gone_ . A few minutes later, we heard from the warden at Azkaban. That...thing had clawed open her chest cavity, and gouged out her own heart. She had been told that she was going to be confined to a solid iron cell, where she couldn’t feed off anyone. They were hoping to weaken the hold she had on Draco, but she knew that if she died while she and Draco were still strongly linked, he might die in a similar manner, especially since he was so weak without his magic. Due to the nature of the link, she couldn’t cause direct _physical_ damage, but ripping out her own heart severed the link so violently that it badly damaged his magical core. That was the point of connection, you see; and the end result was just as lethal as if she’d stabbed him in the chest.” She waved her arms vaguely at Draco. “He was dead. Three of us cast diagnostic spells on him to confirm it...the Headmistress, myself, and Professor Slughorn.”

Hermione nodded slowly. “He...he was c-cold last night when I arrived,” she murmured, shuddering at the memory. “I don’t understand...”

“Did _you_ do something? Bring something back with you from the Fae realm, perhaps?” Professor McGonagall asked as Madam Pomfrey moved back to Draco’s side, and began casting more spells.

“We didn’t find anything that could help. The Fae village Luna remembered visiting with her mum wasn’t even there anymore, and we got attacked by...oh Merlin...they’re all donkeys!!!” Hermione blurted as she suddenly remembered her friend’s fate. “Everyone but Neville and I...they were turned into turned into donkeys!”

“Oh...bitten by feithidí na athrú?” Madam Pomfrey asked, barely looking up.

“Uh...there were these pink moths. They glowed, but only if there was a light source?” Hermione replied, shrugging uncertainly.

“Feithidí na athrú. I thought they were extinct,” Professor McGonagall murmured, seeming unconcerned.

“Uh...I just told you that everyone but Neville and I got turned into donkeys...” Hermione mumbled, becoming increasingly worried that she really was dreaming. This conversation couldn’t be happening. “You’re not even worried?”

“The effect of a feithidí na athrú’s venom is temporary on humans,” Madam Pomfrey chimed in before turning to cast a cloud of some sort of glowing green light over Draco. “It’ll wear off in a day or so. You’re friends will be fine.”

“Oh. Thank Merlin.” Hermione let out a sigh of relief. “Um...anyway, someone who knows Luna arrived, and sent the moths away,” she continued to explain, though she decided it wasn’t her place to reveal Luna’s Fae heritage. “I guess she understands donkeys, because Luna brayed at her a lot, and then she said I needed to come back here to save Draco. I told her it was too late, that he was dead. I knew he was, because I could feel it...” she rubbed the spot where the pain had been, which she now noticed was just below her heart. “She said it wasn’t too late, and that we didn’t need Draco’s mum, because _I_ have what we need to save him. She said he needed me to share my pain, whatever that means?”

Both witches were now staring at her, eyebrows raised in almost identical expressions of disbelief. “Did she say anything about...about you and Mr. Malfoy being...” Madam Pomfrey frowned slightly and glanced at Professor McGonagall, then said, “Did she say you are soulmates?”

“Soulmates,” Hermione repeated quietly. “Yes, but what does that have to do with him being alive when he was dead? I always thought soulmates were just a myth?”

Professor McGonagall let out a short, undignified snort of laughter. “You attend a magical school, where you have learned to turn rats into a wine goblets, and hedgehogs into pin cushions. You’ve flown on the back of an invisible flying horse to try to save a man capable of turning himself into a giant dog. You have faced werewolves, giant spiders, trolls, and creatures that can suck out a person’s soul. Not to mention the fact that you helped defeat a man who made himself virtually immortal by breaking his soul into multiple pieces and hiding them in a bunch of tacky old knick knacks and a journal. Said journal forced one of your best friends to summon a creature that turned you, and several others, into stone. Having been through all of that, do you _really_ think the existence of true soulmates is beyond the realm of possibility, Miss Granger?”

Hermione blushed. “Well, when you put it that way...” she muttered, thinking Shayla and the Bloody Baron might have made a point about her not belonging in Ravenclaw after all.

Madam Pomfrey’s expression had turned thoughtful during this exchange, and she now turned away from Draco. “I need you to lie down, and stay very still, Miss Granger,” she requested quietly, gesturing at the bed beside Draco’s.

Hermione blinked, immediately realizing what the nurse planned to do. “Do you think I’m a match? Isn’t it too late? You said his...ugh..whatever it’s called...is destroyed.” The words poured out of her, and she was too physically and emotionally exhausted to attempt to recall the correct term.

“Well...I’ll let you in on a little known fact; the close, physical presence of a person’s true soulmate can have a powerful healing effect. Not many people are aware of this, because _true_ soulmates are quite rare, and even when both halves are alive at the same time, they almost never actually find each other. It’s never been properly tested, but some believe that the tears of one’s true soulmate have an even more profound healing ability. _Magical_ , you might say.” She winked teasingly, cocking her head to the side. “That particular belief has even seeped into muggle folklore, or so I’ve been told.”

Hermione smiled to herself, remembering what Tibby had said about tears, then blinked as something occurred to her. “Disney movies!” she gasped, staring at the older witch in disbelief. “Tears are always bringing people back from the dead in Disney movies. How did _he_ know?”

“You didn’t really think old Walt was a muggle, did you?” Madam Pomfrey asked with a grin and another wink.

“Oh brother...” Hermione mumbled. “All the great muggles were really wizards,” she grumbled, flopping down on the bed next to Dracos, and closing her eyes. “So...last night the Bloody Baron told me that Draco was calling for me...” she murmured quietly as Madam Pomfrey began chanting under her breath.

“If you are soulmates, his spirit would be lost...seeking yours. He wouldn’t be able to move on without you.” McGonagall explained quietly.

“That’s horrible!” Hermione gasped. “Is it like that for all soulmates? They become ghosts?”

“At first. Once they’ve both passed away, they normally move on together. But like Poppy said, true soulmates are extremely rare, or else the world would be filled with the spirits of the poor pining sods. Er...no offense to Mr. Malfoy of course.”

“Why would he be offended by that?” Hermione joked faintly.

“Oh!” Madam Pomfrey cut off whatever reply the Headmistresss might have made with an excited shout. “Oh! I need to contact St. Mungo’s immediately! I’ve never performed a magic transplant!”

Hermione’s eyes flew to the tip of the nurse’s wand, which was glowing a deep, rich purple. “We match?!”

“Perfectly, dear,” Madam Pomfrey confirmed, nodding cheerfully. “Excuse me...”

Hermione sat up, swung her legs over the side of the bed, and had crossed the short distance to Draco’s side before she even gave it a thought. “You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, pressing her face against the side of his neck. “She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore, and you’re going to be okay.” Tears were streaming down her face again, re-soaking his shirt, but she really couldn’t care less. Despite her excitement, she was still extremely tired. It was quite early, judging by the weak light streaming through the eastern windows, and she began to drift, not quite asleep, but not really fully awake, either.

She could hear Madam Pomfrey and Professor McGonagall moving about the room, talking quietly, but neither of them said anything to her until shortly after she heard the whoosh of the Floo in Madam Pomfrey’s office, followed by an unfamiliar male voice calling the nurse’s name. There was a flurry of footsteps, a brief, muffled conversation, and then more footsteps, which approached the bed. “Miss Granger?” Madam Pomfrey said softly. “I think she may have dozed off, poor thing...they’ve both been through a lot.”

“Understandable,” the unknown man replied kindly.

“M’awake,” Hermione mumbled groggily, blinking and struggling to sit up.

“Oh, no, dear, you don’t need to get up. It’s best if you’re lying down, close together like you were. It makes the transfer easier, and having you in close proximity is extremely beneficial for him when his health is this fragile...” The wizard standing beside Madam Pomfrey was wearing dark green healer’s robes with the St. Mungo’s symbol on the left lapel. He had closely cropped, dark brown hair, which was going slightly gray at the temples, but he didn’t seem much older than her own father, who was in his mid forties. Something about him made her feel instantly relaxed. “I am Healer Wentworth. I’m St. Mungo’s resident expert on magical injuries. Er...injuries to one’s magic, that is. I’m sure you’ve guessed why I’m here,” he said, offering his hand, and a warm smile.

“Yes,” Hermione nodded, shaking his hand, which was warm, and a bit on the damp side. “Is he going to be okay?”

“Most people ask if it’s going to hurt,” the Healer observed dryly. “It _doesn’t_ hurt, by the way. I just need to run a few more tests first, but from what Madam Pomfrey has already told me, I think your Draco will be just fine. Magically speaking, anyway,” he amended with a wry smile.

Hermione bit her lip, relieved that Draco’s magic wasn’t permanently damaged, but worried about his emotional state after he woke up from all of this. He’d been fully under the changeling’s control since May...what if he didn’t remember what had happened since they’d returned to Hogwarts? What if he didn’t remember how close they had become?

“Stop worrying, Hermione,” Professor McGonagall murmured, sitting on the side of the bed, and taking her hand. “I can see those wheels going...” she gestured at her head. “Don’t invent trouble. Merlin knows we have enough around here as it is.”

“Do you think he’ll remember everything? Spending time with me? This week, I mean...” Hermione asked anxiously while Healer Wentworth began quietly casting spells over both her and Draco.

“Of course he will. It was fairly obvious that the changeling was only partially in control of him. Do you think she’d ever have let him relax and enjoy himself if she’d been in his head the entire time? I’ve never seen him as comfortable and happy as he’s been with you this past week.” Madam Pomfrey spoke up from near the foot of the bed. “Merlin knows, the boy is a drama queen, so I’ve seen him in here quite a bit over the years, and I know what he’s like when he’s not happy.”

Hermione giggled, struggling to stop as Healer Wentworth waved his wand over her chest a few times in slow, deliberate motions. “How many more diagnostic spells does he have to cast?” she asked Madam Pomfrey quietly, not wanting to disturb him.

Waving his wand around in an elegant flourish, the Healer answered her himself. “None, I’m done.”

Hermione nodded, squirming around to get comfortable so he could perform the transfer. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“No!” he exclaimed, laughing. “I meant I’m finished. I’ve already done the transfer.”

“What?” Hermione blinked at him in surprise. “I didn’t even feel anything.”

“I told you it doesn’t hurt,” he reminded her, grinning. “I’ve learned over the years that the magic flows more easily, and painlessly, if both parties are as relaxed as possible. And that is most easily achieved by not giving any warning that I’m about to begin.” He winked teasingly, and stood up, brushing off his robes before turning to Madam Pomfrey. “I’ve cast a strong sleep spell on him, since he still needs to rest and heal. He should awaken in a few hours, but he absolutely must remain in bed for at least a week. It looks like his ribs are finally on the mend, and the rupture in his ‘arca medeis’ has closed. Now that the link is severed, his physical injuries should heal normally, and his magical energy will need a few days to regenerate. Don’t allow him to attempt any spells until I say so. In the meantime, it would be best if you could allow Miss Granger to stay with him as much as possible. I know this is a school, and there are rules against it, but if she could sleep in the same bed...”

“I think we can make an exception to the rules in this one instance,” Professor McGonagall interjected mildly. “They’re both adults.”

“W-we’re not even...I mean...we wouldn’t...” Hermione stammered, propping herself up on her elbows as she felt her face grow hot. “We’re not going to _do_ anything. We’ve never even kissed.”

Healer Wentworth smiled sympathetically. “I’m sorry if it’s uncomfortable for you, but I’m afraid he really needs you close by to help him heal and regenerate his magic. I’ve only given him a tiny smidge of your magic. It’s such a close match to his own, that his body won’t need much to regrow his own supply to a healthy level...but it helps speed the regeneration process to have the original source close by,” he explained. “And because you are soulmates, your presence will also help further repair his physical injuries. His ribs are especially delicate, still. You brought him back to life, but the work’s not quite finished.”

“I understand.” Hermione nodded meekly, turning to look down at Draco, who still hadn’t moved since she’d arrived the night before. It might have been her imagination, but it did seem like he had a bit more color in his cheeks.

Turning back to Madam Pomfrey, Healer Wentworth said, “I’ll come by to check on him tomorrow morning. If there are any unexpected changes, or if he doesn’t wake up by, say, noon, please don’t hesitate to send for me. We need to keep a close eye on him until he’s completely out of the woods.”

“But he’s going to be alright?” Hermione asked anxiously.

“I have extremely high hopes. No one has ever survived something like this before. He’s really lucky he had you to both heal his wounds and to ground his spirit here when the changeling severed their link like that. Most souls would have crossed over, and there would have been no hope. Now that he is free of her, and healing properly, he should be fine,” Healer Wentworth replied, smiling again in the warm, reassuring way that made him perfect for his chosen career. “If you ladies will excuse me, I will see you tomorrow, and hopefully not sooner.”

Madam Pomfrey escorted him into her office, and Professor McGonagall left the infirmary shortly thereafter, mumbling to herself about sending a search party into the Forbidden Forest for Neville and the others, who had still not returned. Before she went, she promised to return after lunch to check on Draco. At the mention of food, Hermione’s stomach rumbled loudly. After having the house elves deliver a large bowl of porridge, and a platter piled high with bacon, eggs and toast, Madam Pomfrey returned to her office, urging Hermione to try to take a nap when she was done eating.

Hermione was truly worried about Harry, Luna and the others, but found she could barely keep her eyes open long enough to eat her fill. As soon as she’d eaten the last bite of bacon, she pushed away the tray containing the remaining food, and curled up beside Draco. She carefully avoided touching him, well aware that he might wake up before her this time. She was afraid it might be awkward if he woke to find her sprawled over his chest like she had been earlier. Once she got comfortable, she closed her eyes, and began to doze off to idle thoughts about whether Shayla could really help the rest of her friends bring Narcissa Malfoy back from the Fae realm, what purrantulas were really called, and if Donkey Harry still needed glasses. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, picturing Draco’s glee when heard about the donkeys.

*****

“You came back,” a gravelly voice, and a warm weight across her stomach woke her from a not so pleasant dream in which a unicorn had speared her through the chest, and begun sucking her blood through a giant straw (complete with red and white stripes) in the place of its horn.

“Hmm?” She rubbed her eyes, and tried to prop herself up on her elbows to look at the clock, but the weight on her chest weakly resisted her efforts, just enough to remind her where she was, and why. “Draco! Oh thank Merlin...” As worried as she had been about potential awkwardness between them before she fell asleep, she took one look into his sleepy gray eyes, and promptly kissed him on the lips. He stiffened in surprise for barely a second, then moaned quietly, and gently returned the kiss. They kept it rather chaste, not even parting their lips, but it went on for several seconds. When they finally separated, they both had tears in their eyes. “I was so afraid, Draco. You _died_ ,” Hermione’s voice cracked, and she shifted closer so she could wrap her arms around him, being careful of his right side.

“But you brought me back,” he mumbled against the side of her neck, hugging her back. “Is she really gone? It feels like she’s gone...”

“She’s dead. You’re free,” Hermione told him, pulling away, and smiling at the awed expression on his face.

“It feels so strange. I’ve never not...” He wrinkled his nose a bit. “I’ve never not felt her lurking in the back of my head.” He shuddered. “I didn’t really notice when I was younger, but ever since my father died...” He shuddered again. “I don’t know how he could live like that. It was horrible. Exhausting.”

“Well...he didn’t try to fight her,” Hermione murmured, stroking his cheek. “You did. You fought so hard...”

“I couldn’t have without you,” he whispered, burying his face against the side of her neck. “Thank you. For everything. No one’s ever done anything like that for me before. You saved my life.”

“All I really did was snuggle your...your...” she couldn’t bring herself to say the words ‘corpse,’ or ‘body,’ so she settled for, “All I did was hold you for a little while.”

“You did a lot more than that,” he said, shaking his head. “I was out of it, but I could hear Madam Pomfrey and McGonagall talking about all the research you did, and the petition. And I can’t believe you all thought you could go to the Fae realm! Just to save me!”

“Oh, we made it there,” Hermione said, a bit smugly. “We fought off fearsome...bugs, and a unicorn, got hopelessly lost, I ended up puking, and everyone else was transformed into donkeys. Fun times...” She decided not to mention that they might have found his real mother until she was sure.

“Donkeys? Did you say donkeys?” A slow grin spread across Draco’s face. “Weasley, too?”

“He really can’t tease you about the ferret thing anymore,” Hermione said, giggling. “I wish I’d had a camera, but from the sound of it, they might be stuck like that for a while yet, so you might still get some decent blackmail material out of the whole thing.”

“Have I ever told you how much I love the way you think?” Draco asked, his grin widening for a moment before he grew serious, pulling further back so he could look her in the eye. “I love you, Hermione.”

Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. “I know,” she replied, forcing herself to act casual, grinning, and kissing him lightly before pulling away. Her mind was racing. She’d suspected he had feelings for her, but she hadn’t expected him to admit it like that...so soon.

“‘I know’?” Draco said, raising an eyebrow. “What kind of answer is that?”

“I really need to introduce you to ‘Star Wars,’” Hermione mused, tapping her lips thoughtfully as she tried to get up the courage to say what she knew he needed to hear. “I wonder if we can enchant a dvd player to work in here? You’re stuck for a week...”

“What is ‘Star Wars?’ And what does it have to do with this ‘I know’ crap?” He asked, pulling a face and making air quotes. “And what in Merlin’s name is a...a dbd player?” He frowned confusedly. Rolling onto his back, he exhaled slowly and muttered, “This isn’t how I pictured this going.”

“DVD,” Hermione corrected. “And the ‘Star Wars’ series are some of the best movies ever made. And ‘I know,’ means, ‘I love you, too,’ but I needed a minute to get up the nerve to say it back,” she whispered, biting her lip and smiling sheepishly.

“That’s more like it,” Draco murmured, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. “Of course you do.”

“You are such a prat,” Hermione muttered, affectionately rolling her eyes at him.

“You love me anyway,” he shot back.

Just then, the faint sound of braying drifted through one of the partially open windows. They exchanged glances, and promptly burst out laughing.

“You do realize I am _never_ going to let any of them live this down?” Draco said when he’d finally gotten himself under control.

“I know.” Hermione shrugged carelessly. A little humiliation was definitely worth having him safe and alive. It didn’t really matter whether the humiliation had contributed to his current living state or not. It definitely helped that it wasn’t her _own_ humiliation. “They’ll live, and even better, so will you.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with the real Hermione Granger?” Draco teased.

“Are you really going to go there? Making changeling jokes?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Oh. Ew...No.” Draco shuddered. They lay there quietly for a moment, then he rolled toward her, and carefully pulled her closer to him, yawning widely. “C’mere...need more sleep.”

“You go ahead. I’ll be right here when you wake up,” Hermione promised, knowing she was far too alert to fall back asleep.

“You swear?” He propped open one eye just enough to give her a half-hearted, dubious look.

“You can bet your life on it,” Hermione informed him with a smile, crossing her fingers over her heart.

“I’m pretty sure that means something to muggles, but it looked like you just cut your heart out. Which is a tiny bit rude, considering,” Draco complained, gingerly patting his own chest. “Muggles are scary,” he added, before turning his head to burrow into the pillow.

“Muggles are quite literally the least of your problems.” Hermione rolled her eyes, and chuckled softly. “Idiot.”

He mumbled something unintelligible but rude sounding, and within seconds, began snoring loudly.

“My idiot,” Hermione whispered fondly, lying back against the pillows to listen to the distant sounds of Hagrid shouting and the fainter calls of a few other members of the faculty, who seemed to be trying to herd her donkey friends toward his hut.

A few minutes later, Professor McGonagall burst through the doors, followed by Neville, who looked dirty, bruised, and all and all rather the worse for wear, and three figures in odd green hooded cloaks that shimmered strangely when she tried to focus on them. Two of these figures were very small, one not much larger than Professor Flitwick, and the other about the height of a nine or ten year old child. The tallest pushed back their hood with a slender hand, and Hermione gasped in recognition.

Narcissa Malfoy gazed at Draco for a long moment with an expression of fierce longing, but turned to Hermione and raised a finger to her lips when she began to sit up, intending to wake him. “Let him rest. We have all the time in the world now,” the blonde murmured, smiling softly.

Madam Pomfrey had emerged from her office, and immediately guided Narcissa and the two children over to one of the beds, quickly drawing the curtains around it.

Professor McGonagall pointed at another bed, and gave Neville a stern look. Neville shot Hermione a questioning look before ducking behind the curtains surrounding his own bed, and Hermione smiled happily, and gave him a thumbs up. Looking relieved, he let the Headmistress push him out of sight.

Hermione relaxed back against her pillow again, smiling. “I guess Ol’ ‘Dizzy’ had it right after all...” Feeling a bit tired after all, she closed her eyes, listening to Draco’s soft breathing.

“Harry Potter! You get out of that pumpkin patch this instant!” Hagrid bellowed faintly in the distance.

“Never gonna live it down...” Hermione chuckled before rolling over, wrapping her arm around Draco’s waist and snuggling up against him. “Definitely worth it.”

  
  
  


I almost forgot...here's Donkey Harry:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No...it doesn't make a lot of sense, but it's supposed to be a fairy tale and most fairy tales don't make a lot of sense. I kept thinking of Beauty and the Beast a lot when I wrote this, thus the tears thing. ;-) Oh, and someone had asked why Madam Pomfrey hadn't tested Hermione before...like I said, finding a match among unrelated people would be like finding a needle in a haystack, and they didn't know they were soulmates at that point. She really thought Harry and Andromeda were the best likely matches so she didn't bother looking any further. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked it! I might write a sequel someday, to show how they help eliminate all the prejudice and hostility, but don't hold your breath. I have almost a dozen stories on my work in progress list, and it feels like this one is at a good natural stopping point, so if I come back to it, it will be a while.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete, I'm just working on getting it all posted. I'm also working on a Cedric/Hermione story called 'Come Back to Me' that is really one of my favorite stories so far, so if you're interested, go check it out. That one is nearly finished, too, with 10 chapters up already. Cedric lives...


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